


Teach Me How to Feel Real

by ourloveisgod



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:54:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 100,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7699003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourloveisgod/pseuds/ourloveisgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhett McLaughlin is used to being alone and being lonely. But when a new companion robot hits the market, made to befriend, serve, and love, Rhett has to have one. He gets everything he could have wanted in Link, the robot built just for him: someone to come home to, someone to talk to, someone to care for. But when Link sees something in Rhett he does not see in himself, how far will Rhett let the relationship go? </p>
<p>Link has a lot to learn about being real. Then again...so does Rhett.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the first chapter of my long-promised robot fic! 
> 
> Massive, massive thank you to [brainmelon](http://brainmelon.tumblr.com/) for pressing the idea for this fic into my greedy hands. I hope it's everything you wanted. 
> 
> Another MASSIVE thank you to [mythicalemily](http://mythicalemily.tumblr.com/) for beta reading this fic, finding all my typos, missing commas, and confusing pronouns, AND especially for agreeing to do it again. 
> 
> This is all made up, I know nothing about robotics, artificial intelligence, nor the science behind it all. All things regarding the science behind these robots is from my own head. 
> 
> Lastly, you can reach out to me [on tumblr](http://reedytenors.tumblr.com/) with any questions, comments, or concerns!

Rhett McLaughlin would never admit as much but above all else he is lonely. He has a nice enough life and he knows it, but the knowledge does nothing to take the edge off living alone. He goes to work Monday through Friday and he comes home to the internet and a bowl of ice cream in front of the TV. Weekends are spent whiling the hours away on silly things- cleaning, whittling, doing puzzles, and watching conspiracy theory videos on YouTube. If prompted he says he is happy. Otherwise, happy is the last thing he feels. It’s been a long time since he’s lived with anyone but himself, that’s all, and it’s hard to feel content when all he has for company and warmth is the overheated bottom of his computer on his lap. Granted, he has ample opportunity for making friends, his office, local coffee shop, and gym overflowing with people who smile and say hello and offer up friendly conversation. He takes advantage of none of it. He isn’t shy, not exactly, and he’s far from timid. Rhett would call himself simply disinterested in every person who presents themselves to him. That’s all. 

“No, man, you program them to be whatever you want,” one coworker says to another as they walk side by side past Rhett’s cubicle on a rainy, bleary North Carolina Tuesday in November. “They make ‘em look just like a person, like a normal person, and you can just tell it what to do and it will, like, follow orders! Just like that! And you can tell them to do whatever you want, yanno, ‘cause they’re not real people and they don’t have any qualms about doin’ _anything_ , if you know what I mean.” 

“What _do_ you mean?” the other asks, and Rhett is glad not to find out as they leave his earshot, walking away with mugs of coffee in their fists. If Rhett envies them their easy enjoyment of one another’s company it’s only for a moment. He sits hunched over his desk, a document he could not care less about on his computer screen. What is it he’s supposed to be doing, anyway? He gives up for the moment on figuring it out, slapping his hands on his desk and hauling himself to his feet. His back creaks in protest from sitting for too long and he grimaces as he stretches out his long limbs, intent on getting a coffee or at least a snack to keep himself busy for a minute. In the breakroom are the two men discussing some new sort of companion robot, the kind Rhett saw an ad for on TV just last night. 

“Yeah, listen, my friend from California got one of the first shipments,” the lankier of the two men says, the both of them bowing their heads over the snack machine. Blocked from his bag of Cheetos, Rhett idles by the doorway and waits for them to move. It’s not like curiosity keeps him listening in; he is not interested in the robots who look dangerously close to human. Not at all. Even so, he listens while pretending not to, his arms crossed over his chest like the motion will help him hide. 

“And?” the stockier man asks, a man Rhett is pretty sure is named Alex. Alex and Not Alex talk in barely hushed voices, oblivious to Rhett’s presence, about all the things robots are good for. 

“And they have this weird, like, almost skin-like covering,” Not Alex says. “It feels just like the real thing, I heard. And they’re not, like, perfect. I mean, they’re mechanical. They glitch and stuff, I guess, but my friend says it’s the best decision he’s ever made.” 

“How so?” Alex asks, utterly entranced, holding his mug of coffee limply in one hand. 

“Well, you’re not listening to me, dude,” Not Alex replies with a quick glance around the stark white break room, his eyes sweeping straight past Rhett, either without taking him in or passing him by. Whether they care about his presence or not, the men keep talking with their heads so close together Rhett could touch his hands to the side of either man’s head and smack them into each other. “They’ll do _anything_ you want. Are you not getting me, man?” Not Alex is insistent, elbowing his friend conspiratorially, waggling his eyebrows. Rhett feels both like throwing up and actually going through with smacking two empty heads together. 

“Oh!” Alex crows, understanding dawning across his face, and Rhett buries his face in one hand. The idiots he works with boggle his mind more often than not, leaving Rhett wondering if he’s the only one here who actually graduated college. “Oh, you mean like…”

“Yes!” Not Alex says, shushing Alex with an elbow to the ribs. “Yes, that’s what I mean! Can you believe it? I mean, does that not make you wanna try it?” Alex seems skeptical as he takes a long sip from his coffee. 

“No way,” he says in the end, shaking his head so his hair flops over one eye. “To know they weren’t really human…ugh. I couldn’t.” 

“I could,” Not Alex says, grinning lewdly, and finally he looks up and locks eyes with Rhett. 

“Don’t be crass,” Rhett says just to antagonize the two dolts discussing dropping a year’s pay on a robot built to please. Unperturbed, Alex and Not Alex shrug and go back to their conversation. Rhett gives up on his idea of a snack to break the monotony and he walks away, two voices chasing him as Not Alex tells Alex everything he would do with a robot like that. Rhett is thankful to be out of the room as childish giggles follow him down the hall. And he is not interested in companion robots. Not in the slightest. He gives his head a shake as he lopes back to his desk and tells himself he wouldn’t buy a companion robot to save his life. Nope. No way. Never. 

At his desk he finds his mind wandering and fingertips following suit, tapping out the words _companion robot_ on his keyboard before he realizes he’s done it. And he is not interested. Not in the slightest. But since the page is loaded, he might as well read a little bit. He has time to kill, after all, four hours until he gets to go home, and he scrolls through a Time article detailing the rise of robots made to be more than simple servants. 

_These robots, created by the New York City based company A Better Tomorrow, Inc., are the first in a potential line of many such companion robots_ , the article reads. _The floodgates open, the world waits at the feet of ABT Inc., awed and humbled by the humanity instilled in each and evert robot. The CEO of ABT Inc., Ezra Cornelius, goes so far as to request the phasing out of the word robot entirely. “We prefer simply to call them companions,” she says, standing tall and proud beside her latest model, “as a companion is what they are.” These companions, made to look, act, and feel as close to human as possible, are already the subject of nothing short of uproar. The discourse stems from—_

“Whaddya readin’?” Not Alex asks, slipping behind Rhett without him hearing, and Rhett closes the internet so fast that Not Alex chuckles. “That interesting, huh?” he asks, and Rhett cranes his neck to look up at the man behind him. 

“What do you need?” he asks, narrowly avoiding calling him Not Alex, and Not Alex shrugs.

“Nothin’,” he says. “I just thought you looked a little interested in those robots we were talkin’ about. No shame in that, you know. It’s not hard to see you’re hard pressed for companionship.” He says it not unkindly, just as a hapless idiot without an ounce of social finesse in his body. Rhett chooses not to be offended. 

“That’s true,” Rhett says, going back to his computer and feigning interest in the blank Excel spreadsheet he left open. “All I’ve got is you, after all.” He chuckles as Not Alex blusters through indignation, embarrassment, and ends up walking away at befuddlement. Rhett calls after him that he’s only joking but he doesn’t look to see if Not Alex pays him any more mind.

And he wonders why he lives alone. 

 

Rhett is fascinated by advanced technology. He loves new science and new discoveries and new specials on Discovery Channel about them. That is the only reason he sits at home, feet propped on his coffee table as he reads up on companion robots. He’s interested, that’s all, in the science behind their perplexingly clever artificially intelligent brains. They learn from their administrators, the news articles read, writer after writer balking at the word _owner_. The owners are the administrators and the robots are the companions, flowery words to cover the relationship boiled down to master and servant. Rhett watches videos of people interacting with the robots, the machines so perfect in their humanity it’s hard to tell who is human and who is not until they begin to speak. The robots have clear voices, perfect and inhuman, free of stuttering and stopping and tripping over words. They crest the top of Uncanny Valley, perfectly reflecting humanity back at their living and breathing counterparts. The first robot was built to be a carbon copy of the CEO of A Better Tomorrow, Inc., and Rhett can’t tear his eyes from video after video of Ezra Cornelius having the robot version of herself mirror her movements and her speech. 

Rhett is in awe, that’s all, and by the time he starts to doze off in front of his computer he is sold on the idea merely due to curiosity. He mentally shifts money in his bank accounts, withdrawing and pulling money from his savings, and if he wants a robot it’s only for someone to come home to. It’s only for someone to wash the dishes; hell, it’s only for someone to watch him do it himself as long as they are there. He is thirty-eight years old and tired of being alone, that’s all. What in the world is wrong with that? 

One eleven digit phone number and thirteen and a half minutes of holding music later, Rhett is on the line with an ABT Inc. representative. 

“We can design your companion to look any way you would like,” the woman on the line says, Rhett drumming his fingers on his coffee table in the rhythm of his frantically beating heart. 

“What if I don’t have anything in mind?” Rhett asks. If he wishes he had a landline it’s only for a moment, the desire to take a phone cord and choke himself with it as tempting as it is brief. Maybe this was not the best idea. But he’s committed now, to staying on the line if nothing else, and the woman begins to speak and Rhett tries to focus. 

“Well, we would be happy to create a companion for you,” she says. “If you truly have no preference in terms of looks, our approach is a little unorthodox. We pride ourselves on our unique, one-of-a-kind companions, after all, as special and different as humans. We simply, for lack of a better term, hit the randomize button, and the result is a companion who looks like no other. They will be entirely unique to you in height, hair color, eye color, and everything in between.”

“Right,” Rhett says, thinking momentarily of banging his head on the wall. But he’s in this now. He is making the right choice. He has been alone for too long, for so long he has named every appliance in the house. And Oscar (the fridge) is even starting to talk back. Rhett desperately needs to find someone to talk to before Pam (the toaster) begins to talk, too. The woman on the phone asks three more times if Rhett is sure he has no preferences in terms of looks, and three times Rhett tells her no. Who cares what the robot looks like as long as they can carry a conversation and a laundry basket? 

“Well, in that case,” the woman says, typing fast on her end, “would you prefer a male or a female companion?” Rhett pauses. It would make sense, he supposes, to order a female. A girl. A woman? None of the words sticking in Rhett’s throat sound right. So he keeps them in. It would make sense, he guesses, to choose a female. But he’s never been one to make sense. He wants nothing to do with what his coworkers discussed in giggly hushed tones. He doesn’t want that kind of companionship. All he wants is a friend. Someone to talk about his day with, someone who will listen and talk, someone who will be there when he needs it. What does it matter, the gender he chooses? It’s just a friend he seeks, and in that case…

“Male,” Rhett says, and the slight pause in the woman’s typing is probably Rhett’s imagination running wild. But she picks back up again and Rhett can almost hear her nodding as she speaks. 

“All right,” she says, voice perky as ever. Rhett swallows and tells himself it’s too late to change his mind now. The woman types away and Rhett waits, thumbnail between his teeth. After twenty seconds of nothing but the mechanical sound of a keyboard, the woman clears her throat. “So that’s a randomized male companion,” she says, “to be delivered a week from today, Tuesday the twenty-second, at 6:30 PM. Is this correct?” Numbly, scared out of his mind, Rhett nods before remembering she can’t see him. 

“Yes,” he breathes. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wonderful,” she says. “Your companion will arrive with a mentor. He or she will be there to help you initiate the bonding process. Once you and your companion are introduced by the mentor, he or she will leave you two to get to know one another. After that, you can call this number and press zero with any questions or concerns.” 

“Great,” Rhett chokes out, and the woman bids him goodnight and hangs up the phone. Rhett holds onto it for a lot longer than necessary, the phone cradled in his hand. This is probably the worst idea he’s ever had. He should probably call them back and cancel the order. He should put the money back into his bank account and forget the whole thing ever happened. He should clean up, go to bed, wake up, and stick to the routine he’s been keeping for years. But not one of those things appeals to Rhett. Not one. He does the cleaning up part, the going to bed part, and in the morning he is going to wake up and go to work. But a week from this moment, from right now, Rhett’s life is going to be drastically different. 

He should probably get on converting his office into a spare bedroom. 

Wait. Do robots need sleep? Do robots need to rest, to lie down, to have a place to while away the night at all? Rhett sits back up in bed and spends the next two hours trying to find the answer. (They don’t need to sleep but can shut down for the night if ordered.) He spends the next two hours after that learning everything he can about how to care for a robot. (They are much like dogs in that they need to be stimulated and loved and tended to.) By the time he actually starts to doze, dropping his phone on his face and deciding to call it a night with an aching nose and swollen eye, he knows enough about robots to raise a family of them. 

Wait. Do robots need raising? Rhett sits up once more and readies himself for the longest week of his life. 

 

The following Tuesday at work is nothing short of agonizing. Rhett’s heart is going to explode from his chest for his nerves, his palms sweating as he types up spreadsheets. People filter in and out of his cubicle, making excuses to leave when they see the mania in Rhett’s eyes. He doesn’t blame them. He would escape himself, too, if he could. He’s nervous, scared out of his mind, nothing short of panicked. Half of him wants to run away, to find somewhere to hide until the delivery people for ABT Inc. give up and leave with his robot. The other half of him can’t wait to get home. It’s this half that seems to have control of his legs; he can’t stop jiggling them under his desk, bonking them on the underside so many times he gets Not Alex sticking his head into the cubicle to tell Rhett to stop jacking off. 

“I’m not!” he says, holding down his jittery knees with both hands as Not Alex cackles and tells him he was only joking. 

“Unless you really are jacking off,” Not Alex says as he walks away. “In which case, cut that out.” Rhett waits until he isn’t looking to raise one finger up at his receding back. 

Rhett spends the rest of the day utterly breathless, quaking in his spinning chair. By the time the end of the day rolls around Rhett is ready to erupt. He rises from his chair at five o’clock and three seconds and by five oh one he is in his car, punching the radio off and peeling out of the parking lot. His mind whirs too fast to focus on music, and road signs for that matter, and he waves sheepishly at a cop as he comes to a rolling stop at a red light. By some stroke of luck, the cop waves him on without pulling him over and without making him late to receive his robot. Come to think of it, maybe he should drive by again with his phone in his hand to have an excuse to miss the delivery. He thinks better of it but only just. 

He pulls into the driveway of his modest little house, the one story ranch in creamy off-white. The woman who sold it to him said it was ivory, not white, probably about a hundred times. To Rhett, white is white and the color is the least of his worries. He idles in the driveway, mind half made up to wait here until the delivery van arrives and then tell them kindly to leave. This is the worst idea he has ever had and he is going to have a heart attack right in his driveway if he doesn’t stop scaring himself. He can do this. This is a good idea. Someone to talk to will do him a world of good; he is sure of it. All he needs is a little companionship. A week from now he will laugh at how scared he was. Hell, he might tell the robot how scared he was and let them laugh with him. (They can do that, after all, feign real human laughter. He looked it up.)

Rhett plunks down at his round kitchen table with a beer clenched in his shaky hands and tries not to throw up as he waits. He drums his fingers on the wood and gouges at the already ravaged cedar with his fingernails. The scuffed up table serves as a perfect example of the anxiety that plagues Rhett day to day and he tells himself maybe the robot will be a carpentry expert and can build him a new one. It’s hard to look at the scratches in the wood as the minutes tick by, slow enough to make Rhett question the clock. He checks the batteries in the clock on the wall, the clock shaped like a black cat with huge white eyes, to find them perfectly fine. The microwave proves the same and so does Rhett’s watch, the dial dutifully displaying the right time despite Rhett tapping doubtfully at the face. Surely more time has passed since he got home than the twenty minutes the clock claims. But it hasn’t and Rhett waits, doubting his choice more with every passing second. 

He waits in terrified inaction until it’s too late and the doorbell rings. From the kitchen Rhett can’t see outside but he knows who it is. It’s ABT Inc. He rises from his seat and pours the rest of his beer down the sink, his stomach turning. Okay, this really is the worst idea he’s ever had. He is never, ever going to forgive himself for doing this. He makes his way to the front door, drags it open, and puts on a smile he hopes looks genuine. A woman and a man wait for him, the woman clutching a clipboard and the man holding out his hand for Rhett to shake. 

“Good evening, Mr. McLaughlin,” the man says. “I’m Morgan and this is Lizzie. We’re here to deliver your companion.” 

“I know,” Rhett says dumbly. He looks over their heads to the van they arrived in, a second man popping open the van’s back doors and climbing inside. Morgan catches him looking.

“Eddie is waking up your companion from his beta testing phase as we speak,” Morgan says. “He’ll bring your companion in once he is fully awake and functioning. In the meantime, may we come in?”

“Oh,” Rhett replies, eyes locked on the open doors of the van. He can’t see inside from where he stands and he is going mad for wanting to, from being too far to see whatever awaits him. “Of course.” Morgan and Lizzie step inside, taking quick looks around Rhett’s home as they pretend not to. Rhett leads them to the living room, the room closest to the front door. He sits them down on the plush leather sofa and he plunks into the matching loveseat across the coffee table from them. “Can I…?” he begins, feeling flustered and utterly unprepared, “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Souls of the dead?” Neither Morgan nor Lizzie laugh at his joke, fake smiles plastered on their faces. Rhett shifts uncomfortably in his seat as they look at him, bemused. The next sound is that of something heavy tumbling through the front door. 

“What the hell!” Morgan cries, throwing his hands up as he leaps from the sofa to check out the source of the commotion. Rhett follows him. They reach the front door to find a baffled Eddie standing with his hands up, a gesture that cries _I didn’t do it_ , and only when Rhett looks down does he see why. The robot, his robot, has tripped over the threshold and landed on his hands and knees on the welcome mat. It (he?) is lanky, long limbs sprawled out on the tile floor of the doorway. He wears simple clothes, a soft red T-shirt and a pair of tight jeans, pristine sneakers on his feet. What slams Rhett back into himself from his staring is the painful looking hunch of the robot’s back as he struggles to rise. 

“Oh gosh,” Rhett says, the handlers standing in a semi-circle with no idea what to do, and Rhett drops to his knees to peer into the face of his robot. “Hey there,” he says, sitting on his haunches, his hands hovering uselessly over the curve of the robot’s spine. The robot looks up from his prone position on the floor. And Rhett’s heart soars up into his throat. 

He’s beautiful. The robot, he or it or whatever, has a pair of blocky eyeglasses over a pair of sparkling big blue eyes. They are the bluest eyes Rhett has ever seen, crystal clear and open wide. He has a rosy pink mouth, lower lip plump and upper lip neatly bisected by a pointed Cupid’s bow. As he meets Rhett’s eyes, those lips tip upwards into a smile.

“Are you all right?” Rhett asks, and finally the robot speaks.

“Oh! Oh, yes!” he says, voice clean and crisp and light. It suits his face well. “I do apologize. As it turns out, I am quite clumsy! Who would have thought?” He laughs, a high little thing, and Rhett is shocked into silence. The humanity in the laugh makes his head spin; the robot before him looks more human than Rhett does. Rhett cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at the handlers. 

“Are you sure this is a robot?” Rhett asks, “and it’s not one of you guys instead?” The first person to move is Lizzie, offering Rhett a comforting nod and a smile.

“Oh, no,” she says. “We’re sure. It’s all part of the randomization process. Each and every companion gets a set of traits, you see, to make them appear as human as possible. It seems general clumsiness has been gifted to yours.” The bubbling laughter in her voice has Rhett echoing it. 

“That’s okay,” he says as the robot gives him a sheepish smile. “Let’s get up off the floor.” He rises, knees creaking, and he holds one hand out to the robot. The robot looks at it, big eyes roving over Rhett’s open palm, and he takes it. The robot’s hand (skin?) is warm and it scares the hell out of Rhett; what in the world is this thing made of? But he swallows his anxiety down, the robot’s timid smile beatific, and Rhett extricates his hand from the robot’s grasp once they both find their feet. The robot stands almost a head shorter than Rhett’s six foot seven and he cranes his neck to beam up at Rhett. Rhett can’t help but return the smile despite the anxiety making his stomach clench. 

“Right,” Morgan says with a clap of his hands, startling Rhett away from his awed staring. “What do you say we get you two acquainted?” Rhett agrees. 

Ten minutes later Rhett sits back on the loveseat, this time knee to knee and hip to hip with his new companion. Morgan and Lizzie share the sofa, Eddie backing out to smoke outside and wait for the handlers to return. Lizzie writes in her clipboard as Morgan goes through a scripted checklist of questions and instructions. Rhett can hardly concentrate for his proximity to the robot; for his part the robot sits with his back ramrod straight and his hands clasped in his lap. 

“Now, you are free to name him,” Morgan says, Lizzie sitting hunched with her pen skittering across her papers. “However, his level of intelligence and self-awareness would allow him to choose a name for himself if you prefer.” Rhett glances at the robot, who meets his gaze with expectant eyes. 

“Go on, then,” Rhett says. “Whaddya want me to call you?” The robot’s face lights up.

“Oh, I’ll have to think about it!” he chirps. “There are so many names to choose from!” Rhett’s heart gives a lurch in his chest, the robot’s presence sending it racing. Already, he feels eighteen times as content as he woke up this morning, the robot warming the room simply by existing in it. Rhett tells him to take his time and the robot closes his cerulean eyes to conjure up a name. Rhett leaves him to it. How Morgan and Lizzie hardly crack a smile at the painfully endearing way in which the robot speaks is beyond Rhett. They sit side by side and watch the robot’s engineered mind churn. 

“Anyway,” Morgan says, tearing his eyes from the face of the robot to look at Rhett, “these companions are a lot like people. I’m sure you were told when you placed your order about their love and need for contact. They can be left alone all day, for days at a time if need be, but it’s advised you ask them to power down if you will be gone for longer than a day. They get lonely, you see, just like people do. Just for legal purposes, I am required to tell you lonely companions tend to…act out.” Rhett arches an eyebrow at Morgan until he goes on. “In some cases, companions left alone for too long have caused quite a mess. They get restless and they don’t know how to handle it, especially in their learning stage when they haven’t quite gotten the hang of their emotional range. They will, after learning from their administrator, that being you. It is your job to help your companion learn their surroundings and build their personalities. A lot of what makes them human comes from you.” Still hung up on the apparent mess the robot could make if Rhett proves terrible at robot ownership, it takes him a long time to respond. When he does, his voice sounds miles weaker than he expects it to, coming out a squeak. 

“Right,” he says, knocking his knee against the knee of his robot. In return, the robot jostles him back. Morgan watches the exchange and opens his mouth to go on when the robot opens his eyes and cries out. 

“I got it!” he says, scaring Rhett half off the loveseat. He catches himself and hits the robot’s knee with his own again as he scrambles to act at least half composed. Lizzie’s pen is poised to write down the name the robot has chosen as he beams and announces it. “Link!” he says, shoulders bouncing up and down. “Link! Because I am the link between computers and humans. Get it? What do you think?” He turns his whole body to look at Rhett, his smile lighting up his whole face, and Rhett nods. 

“Perfect, man!” he says, cheeks aching from echoing the robot’s (Link’s) smile. Lizzie jots it down and then clips her pen to her board, smoothing out the hem of her skirt as she prepares herself to stand. She waits for Morgan to move and then she follows. 

“That’s it, then,” Morgan says, reaching out to shake Rhett’s hand as he rises. “Any questions, problems, or concerns, please do not hesitate to call. And as always, have a better tomorrow.” Grinning idiotically from ear to ear, Rhett rushes them out the door and closes it behind them. Through the living room window he watches their van pull away and disappear down the road. Once it’s gone Rhett drops the curtain he holds parted with one hand and he turns to face the loveseat. The robot, Link, hasn’t moved. 

“Hi,” Rhett says, feeling more than a little helpless.

“Hello,” Link chirps in reply. 

“I don’t have a lot of friends,” Rhett says, choosing to neglect telling his companion he doesn’t have any friends for the time being. 

“Okay,” Link says from his spot on the loveseat. “Neither do I.” He beams, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “In fact, I only have one.”

“Me?” Rhett guesses. 

Link looks delighted as he replies. “You!” he agrees. Rhett could get used to this. Link bounces his knees up and down, fidgety, hands splayed over them. He looks nothing short of blissful to be sitting here doing nothing in the living room, his head cocked to the side as he follows Rhett with his eyes. Rhett mirrors his restlessness without meaning to, one hand scrubbing at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Uh,” Rhett says, off to a great start in teaching his companion how to be human. “What do you wanna…um. What do you wanna do?” What do robots do for fun? Are they capable of having fun? For his part Link looks like he already is, just looking up at Rhett from the loveseat. 

“I want to do what you want to do!” Link says. “It is sort of my job to keep you company in your day to day life, after all.” He grins, something almost devilish in the motion, and Rhett ignores the way it makes his stomach lurch. 

“Um,” he says again, fruitless, and Link only beams wider. 

“What do you do for fun, Rhett?” Link asks. Rhett starts at the sound of his name coming from Link’s lips. It sounds sweet coming from him, sweeter than he has ever heard it said. He swallows and tries to drag some semblance of thought together. 

“Uh,” he says one more time. And then, “I don’t really have much fun, to be honest.” 

“Please do be honest with me,” Link says. “I will learn best from you if you do not keep any part of yourself from me. I want to learn everything there is to know about you. That way, I can serve you better, if I know what you need without you having to ask.”

“Gosh, Link, you don’t have to _serve_ me at all,” Rhett says, hand on the back of his neck as Link jiggles his knees. The sofa squeaks with the motion and Rhett tries not to stare. If he had known his companion would be so pretty he would have made an effort to make himself at least presentable. As it is he wears sweatpants and his hair is in disarray, his beard in need of a trim and his T-shirt ragged. Self-conscious and feeling exposed, Rhett drops his hand to cross both arms over his chest. 

“Serve you better as your friend,” Link clarifies. And all right. He is _definitely_ aware of the mischief in his voice. He looks at Rhett like he is about to wink or something equally bizarre, and Rhett gnaws on his lip to buy himself time. He’s never been as good as he wants to be at thinking on his feet. 

“Okay,” Rhett says for lack of anything smarter to say. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Link agrees. 

“I, um. I set up a bedroom for you. I didn’t know if you…if you needed sleep? Obviously, now I know you don’t, I guess, but the room is yours if you…”

“Show me!” Link says, on his feet before Rhett can finish stammering himself into silence. Rhett does. He leads Link down the carpeted hall, pointing out the bathroom Link won’t need and his own bedroom, moving Link along as he tries to peek through the door. 

“It’s a mess in there, you don’t wanna see,” Rhett says, taking him by the wrist to the very end of the hall where the spare room lies. Link lets himself be led. 

“But how will I learn if I am not allowed in your living space?” Link asks, genuinely intrigued, and Rhett tells him he will give him the grand tour sometime. He tugs Link by the arm towards his room, babbling about how he is welcome to spend as much or as little time in there as he pleases. Link nods along amicably to everything Rhett says. The fabricated skin on his wrist feels a little too real and it makes Rhett feel woozy. Surely they don’t just use cadaver skin to cover the titanium bones of these companions…do they? At the end of the hall Rhett pushes the door open with his shoulder, revealing the freshly redecorated spare room that now belongs to a beautifully beaming robot. Link brushes past Rhett into the room and lets his mouth hang open. 

“I mean, it’s small, and obviously you won’t need the bed, but…”

“It is absolutely wonderful,” Link cuts in, eyes sparkling. Ridiculously, perfectly, the walls are almost the same color as his eyes. Rhett picked it the other night at the hardware store, the color called Deep River. Link spins on his heels to take in everything at once. There’s a twin bed pushed into the corner, a nightstand with a blue lamp on it and nothing else, a little desk with a little chair, and movie posters stuck with Blu-Tack to the walls. Link looks at the one for _The Princess Bride_ the longest, his mouth hanging open with no sign of closing soon. His awe makes him even prettier. Rhett shakes his head to empty it of such a ridiculous thought but when he looks at Link again the thought is still there. So what? Link, the brand new robot companion, is pretty. Rhett is allowed to acknowledge this much. He is allowed to look at Link; he was made for Rhett, after all. But even so he stares a moment too long and Link raises his eyebrows, a question on the tip of his tongue. 

Rhett quiets him by asking, “So you like it?”

“It is just perfect,” Link replies, clasping his hands under his chin to complete the pretty picture. “Thank you, Rhett. You are already too kind to me. I can tell I am going to like you immensely.” Rhett has a million questions he wants to ask ( _to what extent can you like something; do you even have a choice but to like me; and if we’re asking questions why the hell does a robot need eyeglasses, anyway?_ ) but he keeps them to himself. Instead of asking them he stows them away for later, adding to the list in his head, and he asks Link if he would like to spend some time with him. Link’s face lights up like Rhett asks if he would like to be king of the world. “I would like that very much,” Link says. “Can we watch a movie? Can we watch this one?” He points to the _Princess Bride_ poster and Rhett laughs. He can tell, too, he is going to like Link immensely. 

“I would like that very much,” Rhett echoes, and he is surprised by the tinny sound of Link’s laughter. It isn’t mechanical, not exactly, but it’s high and thin and nearly there.

Link watches Rhett make popcorn on the stovetop, swinging his long legs as he sits up on the island in the center of the kitchen. He’s whimsical and childish in a lot of ways, his eyes roving across the kitchen and trying to land on everything at once. Rhett burns with unasked questions as he cranes his neck to watch Link ask them instead. 

“What does popcorn taste like?” he asks, Rhett distracting him by spilling salt across the counter and pinching some between his forefinger and thumb. He tosses it over his left shoulder for luck, a silly superstition his mother taught him, and the action befuddles Link. “What good does it do you to throw the salt on the floor like that?” he asks. “I will only have to clean it up later!” Rhett shakes his head and reminds Link he is not a maid, he is a friend. “I will still clean it up,” he says. “I like to be helpful.” 

“You’re already helping me,” Rhett admits before he can stop himself. But it’s the truth. Already his kitchen feels alive, brighter than it ever has despite the sun sinking below the horizon outside. 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link says, clapping his hands together. “I am so happy to hear that.” With a bowl of popcorn in hand, Rhett turns to face him. 

“Do you feel happy?” he asks. “Can you?” Unperturbed by the blunt questions, Link shrugs. 

“I am programmed with emotions,” he says, “but I am told they are only a tiny fraction of the ones that humans feel. Mine are simply echoes. Mine are hollow. But I hope you do not hold it against me, my inability to truly feel what you do.” 

“No,” Rhett replies. Up close, eye to eye due to Link sitting on the counter, Rhett can see the perfect fullness of Link’s fabricated eyelashes. They are just another pretty part of him at which Rhett chooses to stare for a beat too long. Link blinks and breaks the moment and Rhett cocks his head to motion them towards the living room. He hunts down the worn DVD copy of his favorite movie and pops it in, passing Link the popcorn as he sits down on the sofa. With his back turned he hears Link shuffling the bowl in his hands, shaking loose kernels at the bottom like a rattle. When Rhett stands up to flop down at Link’s side he stops. Rhett goes to take the bowl and Link pulls it away as the menu screen for the movie begins to play. 

“I want to hold it,” he says. “You want to sit close to me. I can tell.”

“Oh?” Rhett scoffs, hoping it’s the most Link can tell. “How?”

“I have a large capacity for reading body language,” he says, “and you have a propensity for revealing yourself through it. We already make a great team.” He quirks up one corner of his petal pink lips as Rhett lunges over his body to get to the bowl, snatching it away and placing it into his own lap. 

“We can sit plenty close without you hoggin’ the bowl, man,” he says, teasing to cover up the blush creeping across his cheeks. If Link can read him like a book this is going to get overwhelming fast. “Now stop reading me and start watching the movie.” Despite the order Link looks at Rhett for a while longer. Rhett ignores it even though he can feel Link’s artificially blue eyes burning a hole in him. Yep. This is _definitely_ going to get overwhelming fast. 

Link is a nice movie watching companion, all things considered. He seems to sense the funny parts even before Rhett begins to laugh, joining him in his quiet chuckling at all the best bits. Whether he possesses a real sense of humor or not, Link laughing at his side makes Rhett’s heart soar. He hasn’t had anyone to laugh with in a long, long time. It’s a feeling he doesn’t realize he’s missed until he has it back. Link stares as Rhett tosses popcorn up into the air, catching it in his mouth almost half the time he tries. 

“Can I?” Link asks. Rhett arches an eyebrow up at him and the impish smile he wears so well. 

“Sure,” Rhett replies. Can robots eat? What would even happen if they tried? Rhett watches, wary, as Link scoops a single piece of popcorn from the bowl and holds it daintily between his slender fingers. 

“Watch,” Link says, and he tosses the popcorn towards the ceiling. It lands neatly on his tongue, as pink as his lips, and he holds it there. “See?” he lisps with his tongue poking out. Rhett laughs, Link too much for him, and as he gives his head an incredulous shake Link plucks the popcorn off his tongue and offers it to him.

“No, gross!” Rhett laughs, pushing Link’s hand away, and Link furrows his brow and reminds Rhett he carries no germs in his mouth like a real human. The point is lost on Rhett. The thought of taking something from another man’s mouth, albeit a robotic one, is something too hard for him to handle. He asks Link to throw it away and with a shrug, Link gets up off the couch and obeys. He comes back, sits back down, and clasps his hands in his lap.

“You are very strange,” he tells Rhett, and Rhett struggles with the choice to act insulted or actually feel it. He settles somewhere in between, asking Link with no real thought behind it what the hell he means. “I just mean I am looking forward to spending all my time getting to know you,” Link says. “It seems I have already read you wrong.” 

“What did you see?” Rhett asks over the sound of a swordfight to the death playing on the TV. 

“A man who might want a different kind of closeness than the kind he asked for,” Link says, as if that’s a normal thing to say. As if it’s something easy between friends, something to say over a beer and a deck of cards. All at once Rhett doesn’t feel much like sitting at Link’s side. 

“Um,” he says, and then, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed. You can finish the movie. If you want. Or…not. Help yourself to anything you want, okay? I mean that.” He rises and Link tips his chin up to follow Rhett with his eyes. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Link asks. He sounds so dejected, face falling, that Rhett almost thinks better of leaving him alone. Almost. The part of Rhett looking to preserve some sense of togetherness in his own head urges him to run and he listens. 

“No, no, of course not. I’ve just had a long day. Don’t hesitate to, y’know, explore. Not that there’s much you haven’t seen. Just. Everything here is yours. Um. Goodnight.” Rhett walks away, leaving Link alone with a bowl of popcorn and his jiggly, ceaseless knees. Link doesn’t try to call him back. Cursing himself and every decision he has ever made, most of all buying a robot despite every lousy thing his idiotic coworkers had to say about them, Rhett throws himself into bed. He lies still for a long time, staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed over his chest. 

He can hear Link laughing to himself in the living room and it eases a bit of the black cloud of panic inching over him. Link is not hurt by Rhett’s rush to get away. Relief is short lived; Link sees something in Rhett that is without a doubt not there. (Right?) Rhett wants a companion. That’s all. Someone to spend time with, to sit with, to love. 

Wait. Maybe not the last thing. But he thinks of Link’s eyes, the beautiful mechanical man who wants nothing but to make Rhett happy, and he is not so sure. Maybe Link is partly right. Maybe Rhett craves love more than he thinks. The thought makes him dizzy and he closes his eyes to fight back a wave of nausea. This was the worst idea he’s ever had. Ever. 

Close to midnight Link retires to his bedroom, Rhett listening hard to his quiet footsteps as he makes his way to bed. Rhett listens until he hears the bed creak and he listens until he hears no more signs of life. This is going to get overwhelming. And Rhett is going to allow it.


	2. Questions

Rhett should have known his most recent purchase would become sensationalized news at work by the next morning. Chase the intern, out trying to drag his chinchilla around the block on a leash, caught sight of the ABT Inc. van in Rhett’s driveway and suddenly everyone in the office knows. Rhett is hounded from the moment he steps foot through the front door, people he has never even spoken to asking question after question about what it’s like to have a robot. 

“Do they really look just like people?”

“Will they really do _anything_ you ask?”

“Do they sleep?”

“Do they eat?” 

“Will they _really_ do _anything_ you ask?”

“Do they talk like real people?”

“Will they really do anything you ask?”

Rhett offers up noncommittal answers and shrugs to every person who looks up at him with expectant, curious faces. “Get one yourself and find out,” he says, fed up and thinking of fleeing for home already, hand tight around the hot metal of his thermos. He downs coffee as he makes his way to his cubicle, hands shaky and heart racing from the massive influx of caffeine. So he spent the night tossing and turning in his bed. So he hardly got any sleep for thinking of his companion, Link separated from Rhett by two closed doors and not much else. So what? Rhett wouldn’t know how to explain his newfound anxieties nor the churning in his sloshy, coffee filled stomach even if he tried. It’s nonsensical, the clenching of his stomach when he thinks about going home to his robot. It’s ridiculous. But knowing it’s utterly ridiculous does nothing to help Rhett convince himself of it. When he woke up in the morning, Link was already up, sitting on the kitchen counter with his bare feet dangling down. 

“That your favorite spot?” Rhett asked as he made for the coffeemaker, plunking a mug under the machine. 

“Yes!” Link replied, grinning wide. It looked like his head had not touched the pillow Rhett bought him, his silky raven hair still perfect and neat. (Rhett is yet to give in to the desire to ask Link what exactly his hair is made of that makes it look so real.) Link wore the clothes he came in, the same pair of tight blue jeans and a red T-shirt. Rhett made a quick mental note to take him shopping. Did robots change clothes? Did they care about stuff like that? Rhett made more mental notes to ask Link when he got home from work. He told Link to have a nice day and Link thanked him in his sweet little chirp and told Rhett to do the same. 

“What are you, uh, gonna do while I’m gone?” Rhett asked as his coffeemaker sputtered at his back. He leaned on the counter, arms behind him so he could rest his elbows on the cold granite. Link watched him with a smile on his face.

“Wait for you to get back!” Link said. Rhett’s heart did something very strange, something close to skipping a beat. 

“Don’t just wait for me,” Rhett said. “Do something fun. Watch some movies or use my laptop or something. I’d hate for you to…to be bored?” He made the statement a question at the last second, unsure if robots even felt boredom, and Link confirmed his doubts. 

“I will not get bored!” he said. “My free will allows me to entertain myself as any person would. But I do not get bored the same way you do. I would be content to sit here all day long. I will probably be right here when you get back.” He smiled and Rhett pretended not to be hopelessly weak at the knees. 

“Right,” Rhett said, snatching his coffee from the machine and transferring it to his thermos. He never felt Link’s eye leave him and it made him uneasy, the hair on the back of his neck on end. Still, he didn’t ask Link to stop. He _liked_ Link’s eyes on him. He _liked_ the attention Link gave him. What the hell was wrong with him? He bade Link a good day again, patting his robot on the knee on his way out of the kitchen. Link looked at the spot Rhett’s hand lay until he lifted it, leaving his robot behind. As Rhett opened the front door and looked back to close it, he caught Link touching the spot Rhett had squeezed on his knee with timid fingertips. Rhett’s heart gave a heated lurch, memories of what Link said to him last night putting a vice around his chest ( _a man who might want a different kind of closeness than the kind he asked for, Link had said_ ). He ignored it. 

“Seriously, please don’t sit there all day,” Rhett called from the front door, halfway out into the world. Link looked up with his hand still on his knee and his pretty mouth hanging open. 

“I promise I will not,” he said. 

“Good,” Rhett replied. 

“Good,” Link agreed. And with no other choice, already running a few minutes late, Rhett closed the door. A moment later he popped it open again for no real reason at all, to remind himself he is no longer alone if anything. Link was still there, looking childlike and small from his spot on the kitchen island. “Did you forget something?” Link asked. 

“No,” Rhett replied. “Just, uh…” With no explanation for his behavior, he gave up on trying. He shrugged, offered Link a wave, and closed the door again. In the car, he thought of eight more questions for Link and he put them into a note on his phone. It was hard to go to work with so many more important things on his mind. Now, it’s even harder to stay, downing coffee and trying not to think about how he felt in the middle of the night. He has hardly worked it out himself, how he felt lying alone waiting for Link to make a sound. Was it fear that made his heart pound? Was it nervousness, the pressure of having someone else in the house for once getting to his head? Or was it something else, the very big Something Else Link thought he saw in Rhett? 

The longer Rhett sits at his desk and tries to figure it out, the worse the headache between his eyes gets. It’s not long before he gives up on trying to decipher his own feelings and chooses instead to dive into his pile of perpetual paperwork. At lunch he is hounded with questions again and afterwards he hunts down Chase the intern and threatens to hang him from the flagpole outside by his underwear. Chase squeaks, paling under Rhett’s gaze, and he apologizes seventeen times before Rhett is satisfied. 

“Next time you think about snooping around my house,” Rhett says, doing his best impression of one male bird puffing itself up to threaten another, “don’t. Got it?” It’s all he can do to not bust out laughing and ruin the illusion of being in any way imposing or frightening as Chase cowers, nodding vigorously. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you!” Chase chirps. “I just got too excited, I guess! You’re the first person I’ve met who has one of the new robots!” Chase gets a strange look on his face, a look Rhett knows well, and he braces himself for the stupid question before Chase finishes asking it. “So, is it true? Will they really do _anything_ you tell them?” 

 

Rhett comes home to find Link exactly where he said he would be, long legs swinging off the kitchen counter. 

“Good afternoon!” he chirps. Link hops off the counter as Rhett drops his keys on the kitchen table and makes his way to Rhett’s side. “How was your day? Can I get you anything? I missed you!” 

“You missed me?” Rhett asks, doubting the companion’s ability to miss anyone, never mind him. He plops into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and it scrapes noisily across the tile floor, Link following suit to sit at his side. Link’s blue eyes are open wide, earnest, excited. Link is thrilled to have Rhett home and the feeling is a strange one to process. If he didn’t know better, he would read Link’s expression as one of love, of utter devotion. Maybe Rhett should read the owner’s manual on this robot. It probably has an entire section dedicated to the manufactured facial expressions of which the robot is capable. 

“I missed you a lot!” Link confirms with an eager nod of his head. His neck makes a startling creaking noise when he moves and Rhett looks up into Link’s face to find him laughing. “Sorry,” he says, a giggle on his lips. “I do that sometimes. It is not anything to be alarmed about. I am mechanical, after all, and prone to strange noises. To be honest with you, humans make a lot more strange noises than I ever could.”

“Like what!” Rhett scoffs, the anxieties of the day forgotten as Link waves his hands about, telling Rhett he sounds like an animal when he sneezes and a rumbling train when he speaks. “When have I ever sneezed in front of you?” Rhett asks, painfully endeared by the way Link splays his fingers in the air as he talks, speaking with his hands. 

“I heard you sneeze at 3:32 in the morning last night,” Link says. 

“You should try sleeping once in a while,” Rhett replies, uneasy at the thought of Link whiling away the night listening for Rhett to make a move. (Just like Rhett did for him.) 

“Would you like me to power myself off tonight?” Link asks, brow furrowed in concern so real and purely human it makes Rhett’s stomach lurch. “I can set an internal alarm for a time specified by you. Would you prefer I do that?” 

“I want you to do whatever makes you happy, Link,” Rhett replies. “Don’t you get bored doing nothing all night?” 

“Oh, no!” Link replies, not yet tired of the same question Rhett asks again and again. “There are so many things for me to learn and I want to learn them as fast as possible! The more hours I spend awake the faster I will learn!” 

“Y’know,” Rhett says, grabbing for the napkin holder in the center of the table for something to do with his hands, “I could teach you anything you wanna know. Just tell me and I can teach you.” He rips a corner off a napkin and drops it onto the table. 

“Rhett, you are too kind!” Link replies. And then, “For one thing, can you tell me why your face gets so red when I smile at you? I know blushing is indication of affection, or love, or shyness, but I am not quite sure which one of those things is the reason why you do it.”

“I don’t!” Rhett says, immediate, blushing crimson the moment it slips from his lips. 

“You are doing it now,” Link points out. Flustered, Rhett flies from his seat and whirls away from his robot. He busies himself in the kitchen, grabbing for a bowl and the box of cereal on top of the fridge. He can feel Link’s eyes on him, following every move. Rhett coaxes himself out of his nerves, the blood leaving his overheated face bit by bit. What the hell is wrong with him? Getting anxious and weak-kneed under Link’s gaze is the worst thing Rhett could do. Link waits for guidance, for friendship, for permission to do his best to make Rhett happy. Rhett has to let him. 

“Okay,” Rhett says. “To be honest, you make me nervous.”

“Why?” Link asks.

“I’m not used to having someone around, that’s all,” Rhett says. It takes a lot more deep breaths than it should to turn back around and sit down with a bowl of cereal at Link’s side. Link looks at Rhett with confusion lighting up his face. Rhett has to hand it to ABT Inc. They have truly outdone themselves in realism with these companions; the facial expression alone are scarily human. It’s easy to forget Link is not human at all, the way he watches Rhett with pure curiosity in his blue eyes. “I dunno how to be human anymore, I guess.”

“Me neither,” Link replies, bright and ready as always with a reply before Rhett has even finished speaking. “We can learn together!” With his spoon in his mouth, Rhett flicks his eyes up to meet Link’s. What he finds is kindness, sweetness, something soft and loving and all too real. Rhett looks away. 

“You know what, Link? That sounds pretty good to me.” 

 

Rhett spends the next few weeks learning how to be real. He goes to work, he talks robotically to his coworkers and endures their questioning about his companion, and he comes home to Link. He tells Link about his day while Link sits on the kitchen counter, heels kicking back against the oak bottom of the island. He takes Link shopping and lets him pick out his own clothes, surprised when Link is drawn to clean cut button down shirts, skinny jeans, and skate sneakers. He buys enough clothes for Link to wear something different every day for a month and Link can’t stop thanking him as they ride home in Rhett’s car, Rhett smiling from ear to ear. It’s thrilling, pretending to be a normal person with normal relationships; no one looking from the outside would be able to tell Link is anything but perfectly human. Only Rhett knows his relationship with Link is that of a person with a machine, a man with a computer. It’s all too easy to push it from his mind and pushing it is what Rhett chooses to do. The more days that pass by where Rhett comes home to Link chirping his name, the happier Rhett grows. It’s all too easy to tell himself there is nothing wrong with that. 

Link is childlike in both his curiosity and his glee, thrilled to bouncing up and down on his heels as Rhett tells him it’s okay to pet a dog they run across at the park. Not even the dog senses inhumanity in Link; it licks at Link’s outstretched palms until Link begins to laugh with joy. 

“He’s so sweet!” Link says to the owner, a woman who echoes Link’s beatific smile the moment she’s met with it. Link has that effect on everyone he meets. He’s electrifying, brilliant, and Rhett lets one word dance around his mind when Link speaks to strangers on the street: _mine_. The possession he feels over Link is fine, he tells himself. After all, Link _does_ belong to him. He paid for the companion, he signed the papers, and Link is his. But the more time Rhett spends with him the less he feels like an administrator and the more he feels like a friend. They are equals in more ways than they are not. Link makes Rhett laugh and Rhett makes Link smile. Rhett teaches Link how to fiddle with the guitar and Link teaches Rhett how to tell someone besides the ceiling about his days. They give and take and maybe Link gives more than Rhett does. Most days it gets hard to tell. 

Rhett feels satisfied in a way he has not felt in years. Every time his little robot smiles Rhett feels a strange rush of happiness: he causes that smile. And every time Link hears a new song on the radio and Rhett catches him singing it in the kitchen Rhett feels he could build a home in the sugary sweetness of Link’s voice. He grows fonder of his little companion with every passing day, letting himself think of silly things like love. What does it matter if he might love his little robot? He is allowed to love whatever he pleases, be it man or machine. Hell, if he is going to love something it might as well be something close to human. (He does the world a favor by choosing to adore his companion over something more mechanical and less giving like the exhaust pipe of his car.) 

As November begins to fade away and the holidays loom closer, Rhett does his best not to fret about his family coming to visit. They come every Thanksgiving, more to catch up than to enjoy the holiday. He sees his family often enough and the holidays serve only as an excuse to eat double the amount of food than they usually do at their more casual visits. But this year something is different. This year Rhett has Link. He has something to show off, someone to introduce to his mother, and he forms a plan he shares with Link over breakfast one Monday morning. 

“Can I keep it a secret that you’re not human, Link?” Rhett asks, Link kicking him playfully under the table as Rhett picks at a bowl of cereal. 

“Why?” Link asks. He watches Rhett eat, Link’s lip caught between his teeth and his eyes open wide. 

“Well, my mom worries,” Rhett replies. He is not yet well practiced in talking about himself, in opening up to Link, but he tries. Link seems to appreciate the gesture, happily eating up every word Rhett says like he starves for more. “She thinks I should be, uh…getting out more. Seeing people, you know?” He pauses before managing to eke the last word out around a mouthful of cereal. “Dating?” 

“Ah,” Link says with a knowing nod. “Why is she concerned about what you do with your time?” he asks. “You have your life and she has hers, right?” 

“Well, yes,” Rhett says. He swallows, shrugging, flicking his eyes up to meet Link’s. “But people worry about each other, Link. It’s like…you want the people you love to be happy. And when they’re not, it can make you unhappy, too.” 

“No, I understand that,” Link says, nodding so fast he looks like a bobble head. “I… _worry_ about you.” He says the word _worry_ like he tests it out, like he tastes it, like he knows it’s something he should feel but can’t get quite get it in his grasp. “When you come home with your head down and I know there is nothing I can do to help. That is what it feels like to worry. Right?” 

Rhett looks hard into Link’s face, his little robot an open book. “Yeah, Link,” he says, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl and pushing it across the table. “That’s what worry is.” 

“I am more than happy to pose as human,” Link says next, remembering the focus of the conversation as it slips Rhett’s mind in the wake of Link’s furrowed brow. “However, you might have to teach me how. The intricacies of humanity are hard to manufacture, you see.” 

“I see,” Rhett laughs, shaking his head and smiling at the earnestness in Link’s voice. 

“Why are you laughing at me?” Link asks, head cocked to the side. He does that a lot, tilting his head to one side like a curious puppy. It’s one of the little things Rhett loves most about his little robot. 

“’M not,” Rhett says. “You do a good job acting human, Link. A real good job. If I didn’t know you were a robot, I’d be convinced.” At that, Link’s face lights up. 

“Really?” he says, sitting up straight in his chair. “Do you mean that?” 

“Yes!” Rhett replies. He slides one hand across the table to slip it over Link’s, the robot’s skin cool to the touch. Link watches Rhett’s hand close over his with his eyes half lidded, sitting perfectly still. “You’re amazing, Link,” Rhett says, unable to help himself. He tells the truth, after all. Link is amazing. He learns at the speed of light, asking Rhett question after question (“Why exactly are things funny, Rhett?” “Why do you tell me your day was fine when I ask and only tell me the bad things when I ask again?” “What does it feel like to cry?” “What does it feel like to be hungry?” “What is it like to feel pain?”) Rhett answers them the best he can but he’s no expert at anything. Link accepts each and every answer just the same, thrilled to have Rhett to ask his endless questions. 

“I think you are amazing, too, Rhett,” Link says, Rhett’s hand still pressed flat over Link’s. “I think I got pretty lucky in who I ended up serving.” 

“Link…”

“I mean I am lucky to be your friend,” Link amends, and Rhett should not be surprised when Link flips his hand over to clasp Rhett’s. Even so, Rhett jumps in his seat as Link squeezes Rhett’s hand. His fabricated skin is soft and giving, his grip timid and his eyes locked on their hands. 

“Link?” Rhett says. 

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I am feeling real,” Link replies. It’s a strange thing to say and Rhett has no reply, dropping his eyes from Link’s pretty face to his pretty hand. Link feels anything but fragile, his mechanical body sturdy, but he sure as hell looks it. _I could break him with a look_ , Rhett thinks, swallowing down the worry that constricts his throat. _I could break him with a flick of my wrist_. It isn’t true, but Rhett still feels close to panicking as Link begins to caress a slow pattern on the back of Rhett’s hand with his thumb. Rhett feels like a giant tasked with taking care of an infant, an impossibly breakable creature put in his care. It’s a stupid thought but one that persists, itching at the back of Rhett’s mind. He has to get away from the feel of Link’s hand in his before he does something stupid like admit the love threatening to overwhelm him. 

“Link,” Rhett says again. “Link, you’re…” Link pinches at the soft spot between Rhett’s forefinger and his thumb and Rhett chokes on unsaid words. 

“I’m what?” Link asks, utterly devilish, driving Rhett crazy and pleased to be doing it. 

“You’re real enough,” Rhett finishes, and he ends the moment before his head slips underwater. He could drown in the bright and brilliant blue of Link’s eyes as Link watches him, hurt crossing his face as Rhett pulls his hand away. Link’s hand drops to the table and Rhett hides his hands in his lap. “You’re plenty real. You don’t have to…to touch me like that to…to be sure.” He stammers and he sounds ridiculous even to himself as he tries to say something to make this moment pass. 

“Do you not like when I touch you?” Link asks, his voice dipped in the icy blue of uncertainty. 

“No, I…it’s _fine_ , it’s just…”

“I make you nervous,” Link cuts in. And Rhett told Link so himself; he told Link the truth and now Link echoes it back at him. It serves Rhett right for spilling more of himself than he intended. It bites him in the ass, his little robot waiting for an answer as Rhett stammers his way into giving one. 

“Yes,” Rhett says. “That’s…that’s true.” 

“What can I do to stop making you so nervous, Rhett?” Link asks. “The way you close yourself off to me when you are nervous…it does not feel good.” 

“You don’t even know what _good_ feels like, Link,” Rhett replies, snapping before he can think. His robot hardly knows better and Rhett’s stomach flips the moment he lets it out, but Link bows his head before Rhett can bluster through an apology. 

“No, I suppose you are right,” he says. “I have no idea what it really feels like to feel good. It was silly of me to say that. I just want you to be happy, and there are times when I am supposed to be the one making you happy and I do not quite know how.” 

“Link, no, most of the time you do a really good job, I just…I’m just…ugh.” Rhett drops his head into his hands and heaves a sigh, his neck creaking as loudly as Link’s as it bends. “I’m just a mess,” he says, and Link stays quiet. “I’m not much of a person, Link. Even less so than you, I think.” 

Link squeaks, a little giggle escaping him. Utterly baffled, Rhett peeks through his fingers to find his robot smiling again. “You wrote a poem, Rhett!” Link chirps, eyes glistening behind his glasses. He echoes back what Rhett said, making it into a chipper little song. “ _I’m not much of a person, Link, even less so than you, I think_!” 

Rhett can’t help but laugh along. As it turns out, his little robot is better than he thinks at making Rhett happy. It isn’t hard; he makes the room seem brighter simply by smiling. The little wiggle he gives in his seat at the sound of Rhett’s laughter only makes it better. “Gosh, Link, you’re somethin’ else,” Rhett says. He wants to tell Link the truth: sitting across from Rhett with a smile plastered on his face, Link is the prettiest thing Rhett has ever seen. But he wants to teach Link how to be real and real people don’t say things like that to their friends. They just don’t. And Rhett is not going to be the one to show Link it’s okay to talk like that, to whisper sweet nothings to people who are only friends. After all, that is all Rhett asks from Link. Friendship is all he’s after. Isn’t it? 

“Something else is a good thing to be, isn’t it?” Link asks, beaming, beatific. 

“Yeah, Link,” Rhett says, feeling the sharp edges of the conversation soften as his heart slows from its frantic beating. It races when Link smiles but that doesn’t mean anything. Rhett was just desperately alone, that’s all, and he is yet to relearn how to have a conversation without his heart fluttering. It does that when he talks to anyone. Doesn’t it? With Link’s eyes on him, Rhett can’t quite remember. “Yeah,” he says, relinquishing the space between them and prodding at Link’s shin with his foot. “That’s a good thing to be.” 

 

On Thanksgiving morning Rhett rushes around his kitchen, Link sitting at his favorite spot in the exact middle of the counter. He watches Rhett dash about, following Rhett with those brilliant cerulean eyes, offering advice when Rhett asks for it. 

“What color plates should we use?” Rhett asks, holding up one plate each from both of his sets of holiday dishware. Both sets were gifts from his mother and both have sat unused in the hutch by the living room for years. Link looks between the plates, one orange and the other green, and after a moment of quiet deliberation Link points to the orange one. 

“Warm colors are better for holidays,” Link explains, and if he were human Rhett would accuse him of bullshitting when he adds, “It’s because warm colors encourage appetite, Rhett. You want your guests to eat, right?” 

“Well, yes,” Rhett says, passing Link by on the way to the oven. “Come to think of it, you can’t eat, can you?”

“No,” Link says. “I am sorry for that. It will impede me appearing human, I’m afraid.” 

Rhett glances back at him from the oven to find Link looking truly sorrowful, head ducked down and neat hair falling over his face. Rhett feels a surge of pity for his little robot, the companion who wishes he could feel more real, and Rhett makes it a point to stop pacing for a moment. “Link,” he says, the little robot looking up to meet Rhett’s eyes. “Don’t worry about the eating part. I’ll make something up. Just look cute, smile and nod, and don’t mention it if you start makin’ your weird creaky noises.” Rhett claps Link on the thighs with both hands and Link does the same thing he always does when Rhett touches him; he stares at the point of contact long after the contact is gone. 

“I can smile and nod,” Link says, eyes on his own thighs as Rhett uses the counter space at his side to roll out pie crust. The island is big enough for Link to sit and for Rhett to still have plenty of room to make his pumpkin pie. Even so, Link scoots over as Rhett sprinkles flour across the granite counter. 

“Okay?” Rhett says. 

“But I am not sure what you mean by _look cute_. Is that your way of telling me I do not always look cute? Because it was my impression, judging by the way you blush and pretend you do not, that I am _always_ cute.” 

“Link!” Rhett scolds, unable to keep himself from turning red and vindicating Link. 

“What?”

“You think too highly of yourself,” Rhett says, rolling out his pie crust and nudging Link to get him to scoot a few inches to the left. Link obliges, sliding across the counter and getting flour on his jeans. “Do they make less conceited models of robot at ABT?” 

“No,” Link says. “I presume not, anyway. I cannot know for sure. I have not met any other companion robots. Believe it or not, we are created one by one and shipped to our administrators just the same. We never meet unless we happen across one another out in the world, I assume. Or if we get sent back to the company, I suppose.”

“Sent back?” Rhett asks. He dips his hands into his canister of flour and, distracted by the thought of someone heartless enough to send their robot back, immediately knocks the flour over. Link tries to catch it and misses spectacularly, flour exploding across the floor as the canister hits the tile with a thump. 

“Oh, shoot!” Link exclaims. It’s the closest thing to an expletive Rhett has heard his little robot say and it makes him laugh, rendering him helpless as Link hops off the counter to find Rhett’s broom. 

“You can swear!” Rhett laughs, doubled over with it, clutching his stomach with flour-dusted hands. “You’re allowed to swear!”

“Oh, I am not much into the idea,” Link says, sweeping flour off the floor. He is covered in it, dusted white from chest to knees, and Rhett looks down to find himself looking much the same. 

“Oh, shit!” Rhett sighs, and it’s Link’s turn to laugh as Rhett shows him how swearing is done. 

“Does it satisfy you, to curse like that?” Link asks. He pauses in his sweeping to lean on the broom, one hand on his cocked out hip. He says it like a scolding mother and it reminds Rhett of what’s at stake here, his little robot tasked with appearing as Rhett’s best and only friend. 

“Fuck yes,” Rhett replies, and he helps Link finish up the cleaning at breakneck speed. His mother, father, brother, and his brother’s wife will be arriving in only seven hours, giving Rhett no time at all. He has pies to make, a turkey to cook, a house to clean, and a robot to doll up and dress to the nines. He can do it. He just needs Link’s help. 

Link is good in the kitchen, knowing exactly what to do without being told. He insists upon wearing the apron Rhett’s grandmother bought him years ago, the apron with lobsters inexplicably printed on it in blues and reds. Link looks good in it, pretty as a picture, small and soft and sweet. His hair falls in his eyes while he fusses over the apple peeler, paring Granny Smith apples with expert hands. Rhett tries not to stare and fails; the first time Link catches him Rhett almost slices a layer off his fingers with the potato slicer. After that, he pays closer attention to his hands and less to the softness of Link’s raven hair. 

And if he wants to touch Link’s hair there is nothing wrong with that. He will make up an excuse to do so later, once it’s time to get dressed and looking presentable. Link will say something to make him blush but it will be worth it; Rhett has no idea how he’s so sure but he is. He and Link work side by side, Link offering Rhett an apple slice and slipping it between Rhett’s teeth. 

“Good?” Link asks as Rhett chews, nudging Rhett with his hip. 

“Good,” Rhett replies. 

Link hums, dancing around the kitchen like he is having the time of his life, and Rhett has to remind himself it’s probably true. Link has lived a short life, after all, one he has only been living a few weeks. There are a lot of things he has yet to see and this is something good, something easy. Rhett can admit, for his part, with Link at his side it might even be fun. Rhett soon finds himself dancing, too, humming as he slips the turkey into the oven. He turns around to face Link, closes the oven with his foot, and offers one hand to his little robot. The mood catches him and he can’t resist, beaming as Link takes the offered hand without asking any questions. 

“Dance with me,” Rhett says. 

“Dance? I can’t dance!” Link cries in reply. But his hand closes over Rhett’s hip, the other hand grasped firmly in Rhett’s. And he follows Rhett’s lead as he drags them both across the kitchen, the waltz clumsy and unsure in the small space. 

“Hop on,” Rhett says, and Link looks up into Rhett’s face with his eyes sparkling and wide. 

“Hop on?” he asks. 

“Yeah, lemme…” Rhett gestures at their socked feet and Link gets the message. He steps up onto Rhett’s feet, clinging to Rhett’s neck for balance. “Good,” Rhett says. “Now lemme show you how it’s done.” He has no idea how it’s done but he’s not going to tell his little robot that. He dances the both of them to the living room and spins them in a slow, dizzying circle, Link holding onto Rhett as if for dear life. He’s no heavier than a human would be despite the mechanics whirring inside him, the machinery ticking his robotic heart. He feels nothing less than human as he smiles, tipping his chin to follow Rhett’s face with his eyes. And yes, Rhett loves him. He would never admit as much even to himself if Link was anything but this; if Link was human Rhett would never let himself feel something so powerful so soon. (He would never let himself feel something so powerful at all.) 

“You are pretty bad at dancing, Rhett,” Link says, and the moment is broken. 

“And you’re pretty bad at letting a guy down gently,” Rhett replies, doing just as he says and letting Link down gently. He sets Link down on the floor and waits for Link to let him go. When he doesn’t, Rhett arches one eyebrow and says, “Okay, babe, date’s over. Back to work.” He means it as a joke but two things negate the attempt: his nonchalant use of the word _babe_ and the order he gives to Link. Just like a puppet on strings, Link whirls from Rhett and returns to the kitchen, going back to his meticulous peeling of apples. For his part Rhett stands dazed where Link left him, watching Link work with his lip between his teeth. It takes Link no time at all to look up and call Rhett back to his side. And like he’s the one who is here to serve Link, Rhett goes. 

The rest of the day goes too fast, a whirlwind of cooking and sweating in the overheated kitchen, sweat rolling down the small of Rhett’s back. Link is as perky and helpful as Rhett is grumpy and overtired, wiping his sleeve across his forehead and cursing at the oven. 

“You are very good at cooking, Rhett,” Link says as he pulls Rhett’s turkey from the oven. 

“You have no proof of that,” Rhett replies. “You can’t even taste.”

“No, but I believe you did a nice job,” Link says. Rhett is grateful his little robot has no trouble reading him; Link is impervious to Rhett’s moodiness for the time being. He knows Rhett doesn’t mean to snap, nerves getting to him, and Link always has a smile waiting when Rhett turns his eyes to him. It’s nice, simple and easy, and Rhett tries to smile back despite the anxiety chewing a hole in him. 

With an hour to go until his family arrives, Rhett sheds his sweaty clothes and hops into the shower. Link knocks on the bathroom door in a series of three timid raps and asks to come inside as Rhett pours shampoo into his palm. 

“Why?!” Rhett asks, shouting to be heard over the water. 

“I need the mirror!” Link replies. “I want to look good for your family!” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Rhett mutters to himself. And, loud enough for Link to hear, “Yeah, yeah. Come in.” 

Link does. Through the translucent shower curtain, Rhett sees the blurred shape of Link enter the bathroom, sidling up to the mirror. He leans forward and wipes mist from the mirror with one hand, his back to Rhett as he starts to preen. He’s not much more than a shadow through the curtain and the steam hanging thick in the air but even so, Rhett can’t help but stare. The little robot is lithe, slinking like a cat as he does a dance in front of the mirror. He shakes his narrow hips, sashaying side to side, pushing his hair back with both hands and admiring the effect. Rhett gets soap in his eyes and curses out loud, Link turning on his heels to peer at him. 

“Are you all right?” Link asks. Truth be told, Rhett can hardly see through the tears brimming in his eyes. But he tells Link he’s fine, he’s good, thank you for asking. “You sound strained,” Link replies, doubt in his voice, taking a step closer to Rhett. By instinct Rhett tries to cover up, throwing both hands down and twisting his hips away from Link. 

“Stop lookin’ at me!” Rhett cries, but it’s the last thing he wants. He _wants_ Link to stare and he hates the feeling creeping over him, desire burning a lot hotter than Rhett remembers it. It’s been a long time since he’s felt it so strongly, the heat building in his guts, and he thanks God silently for the foggy curtain between him and the robot he wants more than he ever should. 

“You like it,” Link challenges. He sees it, of course he does, but Link is well-behaved as he is mischievous. Blessedly, he lets it go. He goes back to fussing over his hair in the mirror and Rhett goes back to trying to hide his budding arousal. Once he gets himself in check, he gets out of the shower and into a towel as fast as he can, not pausing to see if Link watches him. He dashes from the bathroom to his room and throws his clothes on, donning a maroon button down shirt (his mother’s favorite color on him) and a pair of pleated black pants. As an afterthought, Rhett rolls the sleeves up to his elbows and shoves his hair up with gel, carding it back and neatening the sides. When he is satisfied, Rhett goes back to the kitchen expecting to see Link waiting on the center island. Instead, he finds his little robot still preening in the mirror. 

“What should I do with my hair?” Link asks. As soon as the question leaves his lips he catches sight of Rhett standing behind him in the mirror. “Oh! I like your hair. Can you do mine like that?” 

“Uh,” Rhett replies, but in the next moment, he finds himself reaching out to touch Link’s hair. He was looking for an excuse to do so, wasn’t he? Link presses the excuse into his hands and Rhett takes it gratefully. Link’s hair is softer than Rhett expected, silky as it looks, raven locks slipping through Rhett’s fingers. As Rhett brushes Link’s hair back with both hands, burying his fingers in the soft strands, Link watches him intently in the bathroom mirror. Rhett pretends not to notice. Link leans on the counter with his hands splayed out on either side of the sink, his knees spread to be even with his shoulders. Without thinking, Rhett steps between them. He reaches past Link to get to the jar of pomade by the sink and still, Link watches him. Link watches Rhett dip his fingers into the jar and spread the white goo between his palms, hands making obscene squishing noises. 

Rhett tries and fails to keep from blushing. 

Cursing himself and starting to sweat, Rhett cards Link’s soft hair back with both his hands. Link tips his chin up obediently without Rhett having to ask, giving Rhett a better angle at which to style his hair. _He’s trying to kill me_ , Rhett thinks, heart thudding painfully in his chest. _He’s actually trying to kill me_. Even so, Rhett does his best, styling Link’s hair up from his boyish mop to a more sophisticated swoop. With a pale slice of forehead exposed and his hair away from his eyes, Link blinks a few times in the mirror before breaking into a grin. 

“Thank you, Rhett!” he says, clapping his hands and turning around so fast Rhett has no time to back off. Legs slotted together, crotch to crotch and chest to chest, Link looks Rhett up and down so quickly Rhett can easily tell himself he imagines it. Rhett backs off with his hands up in surrender as Link offers up a sheepish sort of grin. “So, Rhett,” Link says, dancing where he stands, “am I supposed to be your friend when I talk to your family? Or your boyfriend?” 

Rhett stammers. Stutters. Freezes up. And replies with a question of his own. “Yanno, Link, I have a question for you,” he says, fighting for balance with Link’s blue eyes on him. “What is it your hair’s made of, huh? It’s nice. I might have to look it up to make myself a coat of it.” 

Link gives him a disparaging look robots definitely should not be capable of making and takes the moment of silence to roll his eyes, purse his lips, and walk away. 

Rhett might have to make a phone call to get Link’s attitude adjusted and his mischievous streak turned down a notch if he is going to survive this holiday. The moment he thinks it he gives his head a shake and changes his mind; he is in far over his head but he wouldn’t change a thing. 

 

When Rhett’s family arrives Link is still sitting on the counter, cradling the apple pie he made in both hands like a prize. He sets it down and hops off the counter as soon as the door opens. Rhett motions for him to wait in the kitchen and Link nods, looking pretty in his tight black jeans and navy blue shirt buttoned up to his throat. His new hairstyle suits him and Rhett gets hit in the face with his own front door as he waits too long to let his mother in from the cold. And if anyone thinks it strange to find a stranger in Rhett’s home, no one says a word. Rhett’s mother hugs him and his father shakes his hand, another hug coming from his brother, Cole, and a third from Cole’s wife. The family filters into the house bit by bit and only when they all stand in the living room pretending not to be staring at Link does Rhett move to introduce them. 

“Link, this is…my family,” Rhett says. “And everyone…this is Link. He’s my…”

Without a solid answer on what Rhett wants from him, Link cuts in before Rhett has to decide. He holds one slender hand out to Rhett’s father, shaking his hand and smiling wide. “I’m his boyfriend!” Link declares, and the relief Rhett felt at being interrupted gets snuffed out like a flame under water. Unable to back out now, Rhett thinks fast and manages not to blush crimson as his family whirls on him. And okay, so maybe he hasn’t been up front with the whole not-being-exactly-straight thing. But there’s no reason for his family to be looking at Rhett like he’s a fifteen headed monster just for having a boyfriend. Right? 

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise you!” Rhett stammers, voice shaking as Link offers his hand out to each member of Rhett’s baffled family in turn. “Surprise?” 

“To say the least!” Rhett’s mother says as Link offers her his hand. She takes it, Link pumping her arm and asking for her name as she looks at Rhett over Link’s head. “Diane,” she says, freeing her arm from Link’s grasp. “You can call me Diane, honey.” 

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet all of you!” Link chirps, and Rhett is going to return him. He is going to call ABT the moment his family leaves and he is going to have his robot decommissioned, torn to pieces, and recycled into new robot parts. He is going to sue the company for giving him a robot with a touch too much free will. He is…

He is going to let this happen. 

Link leads Rhett’s confused family to the dining room table and Rhett lets his tense shoulders sag. He loves his robot, doesn’t he? What’s the harm in pretending for a few hours that he’s actually managed to find someone? And if he glosses over the shock on his father’s face, what’s the big deal? So his father thinks he’s dating a man. His father thinks he’s _living_ with a man. Who cares? After all, technically Rhett is living with a man, albeit an artificial one. Rhett waits for his family to sit down, keeping his distance until Link looks up to find Rhett still in the living room. 

“Rhett?” he says in his bright little voice. “Are you coming?” 

Rhett goes. 

Dinner is nothing short of agonizing. Rhett answers questions slung his way from every side. No matter how old he gets, the questions are always the same, ranging from _how’s work going?_ to _why don’t we see you more often?_ Rhett gives short, quiet answers until the questions stop. And before he can sigh in relief, his family starts to throw them at Link. 

“So, Link, how did you and Rhett meet?” Cole asks, ignoring the kick Rhett gives him under the table. At Rhett’s side, Link shifts in his seat, skillfully shoving food around his plate to give the illusion of eating. Link is blessedly quick on his feet, going through the motions of eating despite Rhett forgetting to come up with a lie. He _really_ ought to look up the user’s manual for his little robot and find out exactly how far this whole free will thing will let Link go. 

“We met at a work thing,” Rhett says, unwilling to give Link another chance to lie. Who knows what he might say? He might say they met at the circus, in prison, at a gay bar. Instead of letting him shock Rhett’s mother into a heart attack, Rhett does his best to come up with something simple. 

“How long ago was this?” Rhett’s mother asks, and Rhett should have counted on her knowing better. There’s accusation in her voice, an unspoken _why didn’t you tell us_? And Rhett hears it without her having to say it. 

“Ma, don’t worry about it,” Rhett replies. “I just wanted to surprise you. Clearly, that was a bad idea.” Rhett snaps his way through dinner and scowls his way through dessert, only feeling the tiniest bit better when Link cuts the pies into neat slices and doles them out with a smile on his face. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose as he works, his tongue between his teeth. And even with his neatly styled hair starting to dishevel, he is beautiful. Cole catches Rhett staring at his little robot and arches an eyebrow at Rhett, asking him without asking what the hell he’s staring for. Rhett gives him a look that he hopes conveys _don’t worry about it_. It’s all he can say, over and over. Don’t worry about it. This was a bad idea, letting his family in to the little home he and Link have built in one another. He should have waited and he should have come up with a better story, preoccupied by Link’s eyes and his smile to the point of losing his mind. 

In any case, Rhett chose to introduce his family to his companion and he has to deal with the ensuing questions and comments and furtive looks he’s not supposed to see. He’s relieved when his family starts to yawn, getting tired and getting ready to leave. This was a terrible idea but at least it’s over with now. Rhett hugs his mother and father goodbye and his heart stops when Cole asks his wife to wait for him outside. It’s not often Rhett feels intimidated by his older brother but he feels it now. Cole closes the front door, flattening himself against it as if to stop Rhett from fleeing. And he looks hard at Rhett, eyes narrow.

“Rhett,” he says. He keeps his voice down, Link in the kitchen cleaning up, blessedly out of earshot. Rhett hopes so, anyway. He doesn’t know a thing about Link’s senses and how they compare to a human’s. He’ll have to look into it the first chance he gets. But right now, his brother looks at him like he can’t quite figure something out. 

“What?” Rhett asks, growing irritated when Cole doesn’t go on. 

“Rhett, is he…?” Cole pauses, peering around Rhett to look at Link as he putters around the kitchen. “Rhett. Is he a _robot_?” He whispers the last word like a slur, dipping his head and everything to keep his voice down. And Rhett could cry in relief. He thought Cole was about to disown him for living with a man, for being whatever the hell he is, for being gay for lack of a better word. This is better. This is way better. 

“Yeah,” Rhett says, his voice shaky with the relief that warms the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, he is.” 

Shrewd, Cole narrows his eyes again and stares at Rhett with his mouth set hard. “Rhett, why did you get one of those?” 

“I’m lonely,” Rhett says. “You might have a family and all this great stuff but I don’t. I’m almost forty and I still live alone. You have no idea what that’s like. You haven’t lived alone since you were a kid.” He lets it out and he’s glad to have said it despite the strange look Cole gives him in return. He’s never admitted his loneliness, hardly even admitting it to Link. To tell his brother the truth is to lift a heavy weight from his shoulders. 

“Rhett, you don’t…do you?” Cole makes an obscene gesture with his hands, the pointer finger of one hand slipping in and out of the hole created with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. 

“Gosh!” Rhett cries, and the weight crashes back over him. “Cole! No! Are you kidding me?!” He throws his hands up, Cole’s going up to echo the motion. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Cole says, a blush tinging his cheeks. “I just…that’s what most people do with them. Isn’t it?” 

“Cole!” Rhett snaps, and that’s the end of the conversation. Red-faced and stammering as badly as Rhett, Cole bows out and rips the front door open like his life depends on it. 

“Have fun!” Cole shouts on his way to his car, waving without looking back. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Rhett closes the door and leans heavy on it, pressing his forehead to the cool wood and sighing until his lungs are empty. That was a complete disaster. It couldn’t have gone worse. His father judges him for living with a man and his brother for living with a robot. His mother is baffled and this is the worst idea Rhett has ever had. He’s still leaning on the door with his eyes closed when a hand brushes against the small of his back. 

“Rhett?” Link asks, timid. 

“Yes, Link?” Rhett replies. 

“That gesture your brother did. What does that mean?” 

“Yanno what, Link?” Rhett asks, turning to face his little robot. Link watches him, head cocked to the side, smile dancing on his pretty pink lips. Rhett says all he can. “Don’t worry about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me [on tumblr](http://reedytenors.tumblr.com/) with anything at all! As long as I can, I'm gonna update every Saturday night :) Thank you for reading and for the kind words thus far; it means more than I can say!


	3. Discovery

As weeks go by in a blur of holiday music and Christmas lights, Rhett and Link step into a strange little dance with one another. They ebb and flow: Link will flirt, smile, and shake his hips and Rhett will flirt, smile, and change his mind. He will remember that nothing about this is right; the last person he wants to be is the person who takes advantage of his companion’s need to please. Rhett is not like that. He’s not. So what if Rhett thinks about Link in the shower? So what if Rhett can’t get Link’s lips off his mind as he grips himself, leaning on the shower wall with his free hand to keep steady? So what? As long as there’s no acting on it, no lingering touches and no lingering looks, Rhett is good.

Isn’t he?

Link reads Rhett like a book and in turn, he amps up the flirting when Rhett is feeling particularly good; he goes as far as sitting in Rhett’s lap when they sprawl across the sofa together to watch TV. Rhett makes a move to get Link off him but changes his mind halfway through the motion. It’s nice, the weight of Link nestled on Rhett’s thighs. It’s nice, the attention, the hand Link weaves into Rhett’s hair. It’s nice, all of it, all of Link, and Rhett lets it happen. He lets things happen to him more and more often now that Link is a part of the equation; he lets himself blush and he lets himself stare at his little robot without guilt eating him alive. He lets himself laugh and he lets Link tease him. He neglects to check the manual for the robot, content to figure things out as he goes. 

There is a lot of _going_ and not a lot of _figuring things out_ , but that’s all right by Rhett. He’ll learn what makes Link tick bit by bit; he learns more every day. And as Rhett learns, so does Link. He learns to tell when Rhett will accept a touch and when he will back away. He learns when to stop teasing and start offering comfort instead. He can tell when Rhett has had a hard day at work the moment Rhett steps through the door. Rhett begins to treasure the look Link gives him when he comes inside, Link reading Rhett’s body language to gauge his mood. He cocks his head, narrows his eyes, and once he figures out how Rhett is feeling, he straightens up and makes his move. If Rhett is in a good mood, Link will lead him to the kitchen and hop up on the counter to watch Rhett make dinner. If it was a bad day, Rhett’s boss or his coworkers grinding him down, Link will surge up on his tiptoes to kiss Rhett’s cheek before dragging him by the hand to the living room sofa. Rhett falls into the new routine as easily as he falls right into Link’s skillful hands. Link will rub at Rhett’s shoulders until they lower, tension leaving Rhett’s body through Link’s fingertips. Then Link will pinch the nape of Rhett’s neck, give him a tender kiss in the same spot, and wait for Rhett to move. 

Some days, Rhett considers never moving again. He weighs the pros and cons of lying down, of lying on top of his little robot and trapping Link beneath him. Something stops him every time, be it the childlike timbre to Link’s voice or the churning in Rhett’s stomach. Rhett has an idea what Link is waiting for; he’s waiting for Rhett to succumb to the same urges everyone else expects him to. Link is waiting for Rhett to stay, to lie back, to call Link to him. 

He’s not going to. 

He isn’t; he refuses. To ask so much of Link, to ask for more than the easy friendship and easy conversation…Rhett won’t do it. He respects Link as much as he loves him; he values having a best friend for the first time in his life more than he values getting any sleep at night. Rhett lies awake most nights, long after bidding goodnight to his little robot. He tries to sleep, but it never comes. Instead of sleeping, Rhett thinks of Link, of his pretty mouth, of his pretty eyes, of his slim waist and long limbs and soft hair. The need for release has not struck Rhett so dumb since he was a teenager, since he used to lie awake thinking of girls instead of robots. So Rhett doesn’t do the right thing and shut off his thoughts. Instead, Rhett bites the inside of his arm to keep from crying out as he pumps his hand, closes his eyes, and imagines his fist as Link’s mouth. 

He’s going to Hell. 

He’s definitely, completely, without a shadow of a doubt, going to Hell. He is going to have to explain to God why exactly he let himself have such sinful, awful thoughts about a robot, of all things, and he is going to get sent straight down to the fiery depths. 

If he is going to Hell already, he might as well close his eyes and go again. 

 

When Rhett sees Link first thing in the morning one day close to Christmas, he finds it hard to hide his blush for the millionth time. He always blushes first thing in the morning, thinking back on all the horrible things he thought all alone in his bed. Link is either oblivious or he is sparing Rhett; at some point he stopped mentioning it every time he caught Rhett going red at the sight of him. 

It’s not Rhett’s fault that Link has taken to wearing nothing to bed but tight boxer briefs. Why the hell did Rhett buy him such tight underwear, anyway? Maybe it’s _all_ Rhett’s fault, all the stupid thoughts he can’t keep at bay, and the way Link makes it a point to shake his hips as he pads to the kitchen counter. Rhett thoroughly hates himself for looking at Link’s body, but it’s hard to look away. Link has a nice body, all soft skin and narrow, tapering points. He’s pale, sharp metal clavicles and sharp metal hipbones jutting out against his skin in stark relief. It’s absolutely ludicrous, the attention to detail at ABT Inc., and Rhett should write them a _Thank You_ card for the dark hair on Link’s chest. The little robot has a freaking _happy trail_ , of all things, and Rhett lets his eyes follow it all the way down. (He is going to be struck down and dragged to Hell at any moment. He is sure of it.) Rhett hates himself for the desire to touch every bit of Link that’s on proud display as Link hops up onto the counter wearing only red briefs and a smile. 

“Uh,” Rhett says, as smart as ever, averting his eyes too late to keep Link from seeing him stare. “G’morning.” 

“Morning!” Link replies. He is bright as ever, smiling sweetly with his head cocked to one side. He is beautiful as ever, hands clasped on top of his bare thighs. _Stop looking_ , Rhett orders himself. He ignores the stern order and lets his eyes wander as much as his mind, following the curves of Link’s thighs up to the swell of his hips. “What are you looking at?” Link asks. Of course he does. His devilish streak is a mile wide and he grins, playing coy, as again Rhett turns red. 

“Nothing,” Rhett says, even though he was looking at the swell in a place besides Link’s hips. Every other part of Link’s body looks purely human, from the fine hair on his thighs to the artificial bones pressing at his artificial skin. Why would the only part of Link that Rhett can’t see be any different? Rhett swallows, cursing at himself, and Link drops the subject. Instead, he starts to talk about easier things as Rhett gets ready for work. He only has one more week before his Christmas break starts, a blissful four day weekend on the horizon. He tells Link so and Link lights up, brightening at the mention of more time the two of them can spend together. 

“What do you do for Christmas, Rhett?” Link asks, his heels colliding rhythmically with the base of the counter as he speaks. “We will be together for Christmas, right?”

“Of course,” Rhett replies. He has been avoiding thoughts of Christmas entirely since the disaster that was Thanksgiving. He hopes against all odds his family will still be too shocked by Link’s sudden entrance into Rhett’s life to ask them by for Christmas. He will have his father to thank for that if anything; one phone call from Rhett’s mother the week after Thanksgiving and Rhett hears exactly what his father thinks about his new living situation. (He is going to Hell.) Rhett’s mother assured him he most certainly is not but Rhett is unperturbed by his father’s threat: he knows his fate already. He told his mother so and she scolded him, telling him his father was just upset Rhett kept them in the dark. He will come around, Rhett’s mother assured him. He still loved Rhett, he just had to get used to the idea. To all of this, Rhett gave some assurance right back. He was fine, everything was fine, he still loved his father and nothing would change between them even if he had a hard time adjusting to Rhett’s lifestyle choices. He could not get off the phone fast enough. 

He hasn’t talked to his family since. 

Without any plans and without anyone else to spend the holiday with, Rhett promises Link they will spend it together. Link changes the subject again after that, asking Rhett how people choose presents for one another. (They ask, they learn what their friends like, and barring all other options they do some light stalking.) He asks why they haven’t gotten a Christmas tree. (The real thing is too big for Rhett’s house and he wants nothing but.) He asks if Rhett is going to get him a present. (Rhett has no freaking idea.) Lastly, as Rhett winds a scarf around his neck to head out into the cold, Link asks if he should get Rhett something for Christmas. 

“No!” Rhett says, almost choking himself with his red and green scarf when he gets distracted and winds it too tight. “Gosh, no! You being with me is enough.” 

“But what if I want to give you a gift?” Link asks. 

“Link, you don’t have to,” Rhett says. “You really don’t. I’ve never had someone to spend Christmas with once the family’s gone. Okay? Just you being here is good enough for me. I promise.” 

“I want to get you something anyway,” Link says as Rhett tries to head out the door. “Because I really like you and I want to make you smile. Would you bring me somewhere to get you a gift?”

“Link, you don’t have any money,” Rhett says, blunt, the conversation starting to make him nervous. He loves getting presents. He loves it. In fact, a former girlfriend made Rhett take a love language test when she couldn’t figure out what made him tick. As it turned out, Rhett’s love language was _receiving gifts_. But the thought of Link picking out something for Rhett makes him anxious; the image of Link at a store, humming as he mingles with the other Christmas shoppers, is too much for Rhett. The thought surprises him as it rises up to the surface; he doesn’t want to share Link with anyone. He wants Link all to himself and he wants Link’s undivided attention. It’s a thought that makes Rhett feel self-conscious and scared and Link is going to see right through Rhett if he tries to hide it. 

“No, I know I do not have any money,” Link says, laughing a little as he speaks. “It was a silly thought. You just do so much for me, Rhett. I want to do something for you.” Link smiles brightly and Rhett has to hand it to his little robot. He sure knows how to get what he wants from Rhett. He should probably be concerned about the hold Link has over him. Rhett should probably make a phone call to ABT and make sure this is normal. But one look at Link’s shining smile and Rhett is a goner. 

“You know what, Link?” Rhett says, Link perking up like a wilted flower being watered. “I’ll take you shopping right after work. Okay? I’ll give you an allowance and everything.” He teases and Link rolls his eyes, yet another all too human gesture that makes Rhett dizzy. He claps Link on the knee to break the little moment and Link beams, eyes crinkling up from the wideness of his smile. 

“You are too good to me, Rhett,” Link says. “I look forward to being able to repay you for everything you do for me.” 

“Cut it out,” Rhett replies, late for work and not caring much. “You do more for me.” 

“That is not true at all,” Link counters. As much as he wants to, Rhett can’t stand in his kitchen all day arguing with a robot, going in circles. He has to go. He lingers anyway, debating for a moment, but in the end he gives in to the urge burning a hole in his chest. For the first time, he echoes the gesture Link gives to him. He leans in, places one hand on Link’s shoulder, and brushes his lips across Link’s forehead. Rhett stays still and so does Link, Rhett’s little robot motionless under his hand and under his lips. Link’s stillness gives him away, shoving Rhett out of the carefully crafted exchange and back into himself; Link is not human. He doesn’t breathe under Rhett’s hand and no matter how real it seems, the mechanical heart beating in his chest is only that: mechanical. Rhett pulls away with an unrecognizable pain pulling at his stomach. He can’t put his finger on it until he lets go of Link and makes his way to the door. He turns and faces his little robot to find him as habitual as ever, timid fingers searching the spot Rhett kissed on his forehead. 

For the first time, Rhett feels sorry that Link is not real. As real as he seems, as real as Rhett wants him to be…he isn’t. He is a machine, made of metal and plastic and God knows what else. (And God had no hand in creating him.) Hell, Link is hardly a _he_ at all. Troubled and unwilling to leave just yet, Rhett stares at Link until he looks up to meet Rhett’s eyes. 

“Rhett, what’s the matter?” Link asks, getting ready to hop off the counter. But Rhett has had enough. He’s not ready to have these kinds of conversations, the kinds that call for sincerity and openness. He will tell Link everything he feels. He will. He just needs more time to think, more time to write a script and to plan. With no plan and nothing to say, Rhett closes the door before Link can make him stay. It’s a terrible thing to do, but Rhett does it anyway, too scared to do anything else. Later, he will apologize and Link will accept it. But for now, Rhett leans on the door he put between himself and Link, closes his eyes, and sighs. 

This is going to stay overwhelming for a long, long time. Rhett is going to agonize over it all day, the confusion on Link’s face as Rhett closed the door. Link overwhelms Rhett in a way he never anticipated. And with no other choice, Rhett leaves his little robot alone. 

He looks at his house in the rearview mirror of his car until Link’s face pokes out from behind the living room curtain. Link watches Rhett drive away, Link’s face too far away to read. With no time to go back and give Link another kiss to make up for abandoning him, Rhett offers what he can. He waves, waggling his fingers, hoping Link can see. 

He’s such a jerk. 

But self-awareness is the first step in fixing it, isn’t it? Rhett tells himself so as he leaves his little robot behind and by the time he gets to work, he has himself convinced. So, realizing he’s a jerk is step number one. Step number two will be making up for it. That part has to be easier than the realization…doesn’t it?

 

Rhett takes Link shopping, fighting crowds and noise to lay down some ground rules. “Don’t spend more than ten dollars,” he tries, holding his credit card out before Link’s face. Link follows the card with his eyes and pauses to roll them. “Okay, twenty.” 

“Rhett!”

“Okay, okay. Fifty. Fifty is the limit. And I’ll spend fifty on you. That way we’ll be even.” At that, Link’s eyes go wide behind his glasses, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair. 

“Do not buy me anything!” Link says, using Rhett’s moment of distraction to snatch the card from his fingers. “I cannot accept a present from you. You care about me and that is good enough. You want to spend time with me and that is even better! That is all I want! I promise!” 

Exasperated and more than a little anxious, Rhett tells Link to cut it out. He’s going to buy Link something whether Link likes it or not, and his little robot simply has to accept it. He has no choice. Rhett won’t take no for an answer; his little robot deserves the world for all the sweet little smiles he sends Rhett’s way. 

“If you’re buyin’ for me, I’m buyin’ for you. That’s final.” Rhett squeezes Link’s shoulder, the artificial bones sharp under his blue flannel. Link looks at Rhett’s hand and then offers up a shrug and a smile. 

“Okay, Rhett,” he says. “We have a deal, then. Now, what time did you want to meet back up with me? I promise not to be late.”

Reluctant to leave him, Rhett does anyway. He pulls Link into an awkward side hug, the mall too packed to risk even a brisk kiss. Not that it matters, what people think, but Rhett is still unprepared to face stares, glares, and tutting. So he hugs Link, the embrace short, and Link hugs him back. When they part, Rhett blushes, typical, and Link beams, even more so. 

“See you soon,” Link says, and just like that, he walks away. Rhett watches him go, the little robot who seems more human than Rhett. It takes him a long time to get moving again. 

Once he finally finds his feet, he is no better off for it. He has no clue what to get, where to start, where to look. It’s hopeless, the search for a gift for a robot, and Rhett finds himself in an electronics store. He touches everything, running his hands along headphones, speakers, massage chairs, phone chargers, and things that baffle him. There are glowing lights and strange wires and things he can’t name for the life of him. When an employee tries to talk to him about the electronic pillow he looks at, he takes it as his cue to flee. None of the stores around Rhett catch his eye and he wonders if Link is doing any better. He can read Rhett like a book, he claims, so shopping for Rhett should be easy. But Rhett doesn’t know what to expect from Link. (He never does.) Link could be getting Rhett a _dog_ , for all he knows, and Rhett wrestles with the sudden urge to chase after Link and talk him out of it. It’s a ridiculous thought, but Rhett is full of them. 

In the end, Rhett settles on the book store. Link loves to learn more than he loves anything else (his capacity for stupid things like _love_ is still unclear to Rhett) and Rhett wanders the aisles in search of something to teach him. He picks up a book on guitars, for an excuse to keep touching Link’s hands as they play together if nothing else. He picks up a book on movies, a list of all the movies every person should see before they die. Granted, Link has a lot more time when it comes to death than Rhett does. But he’ll appreciate the gesture just the same. Won’t he? (The morbid thought is a lot harder to shake than it should be.) 

Arms laden down with half a dozen books, Rhett meanders to a chocolate shop to kill time before meeting back up with Link in the middle of the mall. He stuffs a truffle into his mouth and pays for it with his mouth full. He buys a coffee, asks to borrow a chair from someone who uses it to hold their bags, and flops into the chair with his own bags at his feet. The more time he spends alone, making small talk with strangers, the more Rhett misses his little robot. It doesn’t hit him until he is alone; he craves Link’s company like he has never craved anything before. He feels empty without Link at his side. It should scare him. It ought to worry him, the need he has for Link, but Rhett doesn’t allow it. After so many years alone, Rhett is harming no one by wanting Link. 

Right?

 

Christmas Eve comes too soon, Link utterly devilish as he keeps secret what he bought for Rhett. Willing to play the same game, Rhett locks Link out of his bedroom as he wraps up Link’s brand new books in silver paper. Link knocks at the door periodically, the wrapping going slowly as Rhett somehow gets tape stuck to his beard. He asks Rhett how much longer he’ll be and every time he asks, Rhett gives him a different answer. 

In the end, the sun long gone and the stars gleaming outside, Rhett emerges. He balances a stack of wrapped presents in his arms. Tomorrow, his family will be here to visit despite Rhett’s insistence that he’s sick and he can’t take visitors. It was a valiant effort but he should have known they would never believe him. It’s not like he doesn’t want to see them. He does. But he would be lying if he said he wanted to spend the holiday with anyone but Link. A pair of bright blue eyes and a toothy smile is all Rhett wants for Christmas. 

Rhett sits Link down on the living room sofa, underneath the mistletoe Rhett hung from the light on the ceiling. The green sprig of leaves is the only indication of the holiday in Rhett’s house. Rhett catches Link looking at it out of the corner of his eye as Rhett tries to keep his attention. 

“Hey, wandering eye,” Rhett says, squeezing Link’s knee. “Open your dang presents before I bring them back.” Startled into obeying, Link does. His eyes widen exponentially with every book he opens until it’s almost comical, the excitement in those eyes. 

“Oh, Rhett!” Link cries, glee brightening his face. He holds one book up, the thickest one, and he asks, “Can we watch all of these movies together?”

“I dunno, Link,” Rhett replies. “A thousand movies is an awful lot.”

“Can we try?”

“Sure, Link, we can try.”

“Oh, Rhett. I should have expected you to buy me something so nice. I saw it in the way you have been looking at me all week, like you have a secret.” He beams, eyes sparkling behind his blocky glasses. He’s gorgeous like this, happy as he can be, youthful face open wide. (The quick research Rhett did before placing his order with ABT told him the company gives each companion the same physical age as their administrators unless otherwise specified. But Link looks younger than Rhett’s thirty-nine, no lines in his perfect face. Hell, ABT might have even made a mistake with the whole age thing. They seem to have also made one with the little robot’s capacity for mischief. But about both things, Rhett is not about to complain.) 

“You’re very astute,” Rhett replies. He feels a smile creeping up on his own face at the sight of Link’s, Rhett’s smile no match for the one his little robot gifts him. And as Link looks at him, head cocked and all his teeth showing, Rhett feels he might be able to conquer the world (his little corner of it, anyway). 

When Link asks him, “Ready for your present?” the feeling only intensifies. How Rhett went so long without this, without socialization, without touch, without contact, is beyond him. How he survived alone year after year escapes him just as much. 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Rhett says, and in the next moment, Link is on his feet. He drags a long and silky something from the back pocket of his jeans and before Rhett can react, Link is busy tying a blindfold over his eyes. 

“Your present is in my bedroom,” Link says, Rhett’s hands closing over Link’s wrists as he knots the silk scarf at the back of Rhett’s head. 

“Your bedroom? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Anxiety swoops into Rhett’s stomach like a bird made of hot lead, burning a hole in him. “Link, tell me you’re kidding.”

“No!” Link replies. “Get up and hold my hand. I will lead the way.”

“Link, I know how to get to my own spare bedroom.”

“Hey! It’s not your spare bedroom anymore, Rhett. It’s my room. You said so yourself.” Link speaks like he is mischief personified, impish and exuberant as he yanks fruitlessly at Rhett’s hands. Blind and more than a little petrified, Rhett sits as still as stone. 

“Tell me what it is,” Rhett says. 

“No!”

“Gimme a hint.”

“No!”

“Are you hiding an animal back there? A big animal? Please tell me you didn’t buy a horse or something. Link, is there a creature living in my house?!”

“No!” Link says, still tugging on Rhett’s hands in a desperate attempt to get Rhett to stand. “Come with me, please! I have been waiting so long to show you! I think you might like it!” 

“Oh, Link, I…” Any excuse Rhett might be able to conjure up would fall on deaf ears. Worry tightening his chest to the point of pain, Rhett stands anyway. With Link trying to yank his arms off, Rhett doesn’t have much of a choice. “Okay, then. Show me.” 

Link drags Rhett down the hall, Rhett stumbling on the carpet as they go. Outside the bedroom, Link lets go of Rhett’s hand and tells him to wait. “Let me do some finishing touches. Stay here.”

“Where would I go?!” Rhett asks, fumbling for the wall to lean on as Link closes the bedroom door in Rhett’s face. He listens closely to the door and the robot beyond it, trying to figure out what the hell Link is doing. The thought of running for his life is a compelling one. If Rhett wasn’t blind, he might try. 

But Link calls his name through the door and the window of time for running away closes. 

“Rhett, come here!” Link says. 

“I can’t see,” Rhett reminds him, exasperated. He goes to pull off his blindfold, Link’s plan be damned, but Link cries out like he sees Rhett through the door. 

“Stop!” Link cries. The door before Rhett opens, Link grabs Rhett by the front of his shirt, and without pause he drags Rhett into the room. 

“Link, what…?” Rhett says, reaching out into the nothingness before his eyes for Link. But his little robot evades him, slipping behind Rhett to close the door and lock it. “There’s no one here, Link, why’re you locking the door?” Rhett spins to follow the sound of Link’s quick footsteps, getting hopelessly lost in the bedroom. If he tried to flee, he would never be able to find the door. He trips over nothing and Link catches him by the elbow. 

“Sit!” Link says. Without waiting for Rhett to feel around for a seat, Link takes hold of Rhett by the shoulders and sits him down on the bed. “Stay.”

“Yes, _sir_!” Rhett jokes in reply, teasing to keep terror from constricting his throat. 

“Good boy,” Link teases right back, his snappy reply wiping the burgeoning smirk right off Rhett’s face. Rhett sits, mouth hanging open and palms sweating, waiting for Link to come back to him. Instead, Link starts to hum as Rhett starts to panic. Rhett smells something sickeningly sweet, something that smells an awful lot like vanilla-scented candles. The realization sends Rhett’s heart skittering and he is on his feet in the next moment, hands flying to his blindfold. Link is crazy. _Crazy_. Whatever he planned, Rhett wants no part in it. But Link stills Rhett, placing his cool hands over Rhett’s as he grapples with the blindfold. “Please,” Link says. “Just wait.” He waits for Rhett to stop moving, to stop trying to fight him, and then he lets Rhett go. “Sit, Rhett. I want to give this to you.” 

“What is it, Link?” Rhett asks. 

Link sits him back down, guiding him back onto the bed. He leans in close to Rhett’s ear, hands tight on his shoulders, and his voice is low as he whispers, “Trust me.” Link takes Rhett’s brief moment of stillness to kiss him hard on the cheek. “Do you trust me?” Link asks, fingers tightening on Rhett’s shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Rhett replies. He does, doesn’t he? Link was built to be trustworthy, to be honest. Link was built for Rhett. What does Rhett have not to trust? “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Link says. And just like that, Link’s hands lift from Rhett’s shoulders and land on the knot of his blindfold. Nimbly, he undoes the knot, the silk scarf falling into his hands. Rhett blinks in the soft yellow light of the candles decorating the room, the flames the first thing he sees. Tiny candles line the desk and the nightstand in neat little rows, filling the room with shadows of flickering flames. The room blurry from the fog in Rhett’s eyes, it takes him a long moment to find Link. And when he does, he gasps aloud. 

Rhett’s little robot is dressed in nothing but a tiny, impossibly tight pair of briefs striped in white and red to mimic a candy cane. 

Rhett throws his hands over his eyes, but not before he catches a glimpse of the sizeable bulge in Link’s underwear. He’s a robot, a goddamn robot, and he proudly presents himself like a horny teenager. “Link!” Rhett cries. “What the hell are you doing?!” 

“I am trying to give you your Christmas present!” Link chirps. “Me!” 

_This cannot be happening_. 

“Link, what…?”

“Rhett, I want to make you happy. You want me, don’t you? I want you, too.”

“You can’t want anything, Link, you’re a friggin’ robot!” Rhett snaps, sweating buckets. He peeks through his fingers to find Link standing with his hands on his narrow hips, breathtaking in candy stripes. His hair is pushed neatly back, glasses low on his nose, underwear hung so low it makes Rhett feel scandalized for looking. He’s beautiful, too pretty to be real, and unreal is exactly what he is. He isn’t real and it isn’t fair, the coy little dance Link does as Rhett stares. He sways his hips, working his lip between his teeth, utterly unperturbed by Rhett’s disbelief. 

“I can want whatever I want to want,” Link replies, nonsensical, eyes half-lidded. 

“Not me,” Rhett says. “Please, not me.” His eyes wander despite the blunt edge he manages to scrape into his voice. He lets his eyes fall down Link’s jutting collarbones, down his chest, down the lines of his body to the top of his underwear. He’s stunning, a _gift_ , and Rhett would be stupid not to accept it. Wouldn’t he? He shakes his head and holds his hands up, intent on keeping his little robot at bay. 

Link has other plans. He takes Rhett’s hands, lacing up their fingers, moving close until he can’t get any closer. Once every inch of space between them is gone, Link lets go of Rhett’s hands and climbs into his lap. The motion is so smooth that Rhett doesn’t have time to ward Link off, Link straddling Rhett’s thighs and closing his hands over Rhett’s shoulders. Up close he’s even prettier, all long eyelashes and full, pink lips. Up close, he looks nothing but real. 

Rhett reaches out and lays his hands over Link’s hips. His hands look huge on Link’s body, too big and clumsy to hold something as lithe and as beautiful as Link. Still, Rhett doesn’t let go. He looks up at Link, his little robot, and Rhett’s brain screams at him to get away. He stammers, trying to come up with an excuse, but Link smiles down at him and Rhett’s mind leaves him. His brain jumps ship, abandoning him entirely in the wake of Link’s hands roving up to card through Rhett’s hair. 

“Merry Christmas, Rhett,” Link coos. He presses his forehead to Rhett’s, holds Rhett tight by his hair, and kisses him. It’s nothing like the chaste little kisses of comfort Link has been gifting Rhett for weeks. It’s nothing like the _good morning_ kiss on the forehead and nothing like the _I’m here for you_ kiss on the temple. Link’s lips are cool as he kisses Rhett on the mouth, no timidity and no hesitation. He’s not real but he sure as hell feels it. 

Rhett kisses him back. 

It’s overwhelming at first, the reminder of how good it can feel to touch someone like this, but Rhett’s brain returns in full force to rebel against him. _He’s not real! He’s a robot, for Christ’s sake! You’re taking advantage of him; he’s too good for you; this is so, so wrong_. Still, Rhett kisses Link back. It’s a dry, soft kiss, gentle despite how hard Link tugs at Rhett’s hair. It’s a kiss gifted by someone who has never kissed before. Rhett has not kissed anybody in years, in longer than he would ever admit, but he has kissed a lot of people. He has done a lot more than cradle someone in his lap, but never has he cradled someone so soft and careful and sweet. 

Link breaks the kiss and leaves Rhett breathless. 

Without breath in his body, Link sits in perfect stillness in Rhett’s lap. Rhett breathes hard through his open mouth, heart rising up in his throat. Link is the best thing Rhett has ever seen and the best thing he has ever had. Rhett could ruin everything by doing this, by giving in, by doing what everyone expects of him. He could hurt the best relationship he’s had in years, in _eons_. It could all come crashing down because of one kiss, because of one touch. 

Rhett touches anyway.

He makes a choice and he makes a move, tipping his chin up to receive another kiss. Link gives it without pause. His hands slip out of Rhett’s hair and slide down to his throat, Link fluid in his motion and skillful with his fingertips. Link’s hands leave fire in their wake, Rhett’s skin burning up under the touch of his little robot. _He’s a robot and you’re doing wrong by him_ , Rhett reminds himself, but for once, he ignores the part of him that knows best. Heedless, he shoves it away. Rhett’s hands move before he can stop to think, gliding down Link’s hips to cup his ass. 

This is too much for Rhett to handle; one man can’t _feel_ so much and survive it. It’s not possible. Link is all but alive as he moves with the motion of Rhett’s hands, rolling his hips to give Rhett better access to the soft, round curves of his body. 

Even though there are countless things he doesn’t know, here Link knows exactly what he’s doing. He kisses like he learns, discovering things as he goes. But he moves like he’s done this before, like he was made for this. _He was_ , Rhett’s brain reminds him. _He was made to move like this for you_. The thought makes him feel close to throwing up and he pulls back, meeting Link’s eyes. The robot looks the same as always, blue eyes bright behind his glasses and his hair an artfully disheveled mess, curling over his forehead and around his ears. But his eyes are dancing like Rhett has never seen before, gleaming with a new light. There’s discovery there, Link searching Rhett’s face with his eyes and with his hands. Whatever it is he seeks, he finds it in Rhett’s eyes. Link smiles blissfully and he surprises Rhett with a swift kiss to the cheek. 

“Rhett, is this okay?” Link asks. He whispers close to Rhett’s ear, tender beyond anything Rhett has ever felt before. He’s heavy in Rhett’s lap, all bare skin and candy colored underwear, and this is Rhett’s chance to break away. This is his opportunity to end it, to go back, to get his best friend back before Rhett risks losing him. There is no good that could come from this, from giving in. But Rhett loves Link, doesn’t he? He loves him. There is no harm that could come from this either, from kissing the person he loves. _He’s not a person_. 

He’s not a person, not in the usual way, but he is a person just the same. Again, foolishly, Rhett ignores his brain. When it comes to his little robot, he does it more and more. 

“This is okay,” Rhett says. “Yeah, Link, this is okay.” 

“Merry Christmas, Rhett!” Link says again, joyful and beaming. He throws his arms around Rhett’s neck and kisses him, mouth soft and just as giving as the rest of him. Rhett kisses back, hands exploring the soft and hard edges of Link’s body. Link rolls his hips with the roving of Rhett’s hands and Rhett groans, eyes slipping shut. He finds himself hard, ridiculously so, straining against his jeans. Link exacerbates the tightness making Rhett’s breath catch by grinding down, grinning when he gets what he wants. What he wants is sound, noise, and all the whimpering he can illicit from Rhett’s mouth. Rhett moans, shocked by the desperation in the simple sound. He wants Link terribly, more than he thought he did. After weeks of dodging him, weeks of waiting and yearning and wishing, Rhett is still surprised by the depth of his want. 

“God,” Rhett breathes, breath washing across Link’s mouth.

“No,” Link replies. “Only me.” Rhett has no goddamn idea what that means, but at the moment, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything but Link, his little robot, his, his, his. Link is Rhett’s for the taking and he is going to _take_. 

“Only you,” Rhett agrees, ludicrous, hardly lucid. He rises off the bed, Link clinging to his shoulders to keep from falling, and Rhett tosses Link back down. Link makes a soft little noise of contentment, mewling and gorgeous on the mattress, and Rhett climbs on all fours on top of him. Link looks up at Rhett, eyes wide and all his teeth showing, waiting for Rhett to make a move. Rhett has passed the point of going back, but it might just be okay. He might just be able to make something good out of the point of no return. 

He tries. 

He kisses Link, as gentle as he can, being careful not to put all his weight on his little robot. Link’s hands explore the slope of Rhett’s spine as it curves, Rhett dipping his head to leave a careful trail of kisses from Link’s throat to his chest. Link cannot feel pain but he can feel this. There is some feeling in there, in the electric pulses beating within Link’s body, and he arches his back up into every whispering touch Rhett alights on his skin. 

“Do you feel me?” Rhett asks, voice husky. “Can you feel this?”

“I feel good,” Link replies. “I feel so good.”

“Describe it to me.” Rhett kisses Link’s collarbone, opening his mouth to lap hungrily at the artificial skin. Link laughs, a little, tinkling thing, and he bears down with his palms at the small of Rhett’s back.

“Tickles,” Link replies. “It’s like your emotions, Rhett. I get echoes. I get shadows. I love it. I love it. I don’t ever want you to stop. But I am sure it’s nothing…compared…to what you feel.” His voice falters, Link stammering for the first time, and Rhett pulls back to look at him in wonder. _A lot of what makes them human comes from you_. Rhett was told as much in the beginning, told he would be the one to teach Link how to be a person. And already, Rhett rubs off on him, the two sharing mannerisms and habits. It’s too big a task for Rhett to handle. 

But he tries. 

“I feel good too, Link,” Rhett says, and that is all he has left to say for the time being. Unbidden and freed from the anxiety that stops his hands, Rhett surges up to free himself from his clothes. It’s too hot in this room, the candles burning down all around them like flickering stars. Link watches in wide-eyed wonder as Rhett tosses his shirt to the side. He watches, awe in his face, as Rhett struggles out of his jeans. Rhett tries to kiss Link, to touch him, but Link closes one hand over Rhett’s wrist to still him. 

“Take everything off, please,” Link says, somber for the first time since dragging Rhett into the room. “Take everything off for me.” 

Rhett hesitates, but not for long. His underwear follows the rest of his clothes onto the carpet as Link stares. Link is utterly shameless in the way his eyes travel down. For all the fear that kept him from this, Rhett has never been less afraid in his life. Link is his; Link is _made_ to be his. And Rhett has been alone for so long, years stretching out behind him, but Link is here to ease those years away. Link is here to love him. Rhett can handle that. 

He moves to climb back into bed, to rise on his hands and knees over Link, but the little robot has other ideas. Link rolls them over as Rhett leans in for a kiss, shocking Rhett into allowing it. Link burrows one knee in between Rhett’s thighs and just like that, he makes it real. The moment his fingers brush Rhett where he aches and burns for touch, Rhett sees stars. It’s too good, the touch he has been craving and missing and _dying_ for. It’s too good, Link’s hand wrapping carefully around him. It’s too damn good, Link’s skin cool and soft as his hand begins to move. Rhett closes his eyes against the flickering lights of candles and the blissful motion of Link’s hand on him. Link’s other hand acts as an anchor, pressed heavily into the meat of Rhett’s thigh, Link using Rhett for balance. It hurts, the pressure Link puts on Rhett, but he has felt far worse things than this. 

“Look at me,” Link says softly, a whisper passed between them in the near dark. 

Rhett does. 

He opens his eyes to find Link as beautiful as ever, hair in his eyes, smile crooked. “Do you want to make love to me, Rhett?” Link asks, hand moving slow, eyes firm on Rhett’s. “Because I think you do. And I would like that…very much.” 

It’s all Rhett can do to keep from crying out loud. He feels too good already; heat builds in his guts at the sight of Link working him with a careful hand. There cannot be anything better than this. But Rhett knows it’s not true the moment he thinks it. There’s a world of things he and Link can explore. There are a million ways to feel good, to meld, to work together to an end. 

Breathless, melting under Link’s hands, Rhett nods. “Yes,” he rasps. “Yes, I want to.” He surprises himself by adding a quiet, desperate whisper of the word, “Please.” 

In one smooth, effortless motion, Link slips out of his beautifully ridiculous Christmas themed underwear and clambors back over Rhett, straddling Rhett’s hips. Like Link, Rhett can’t help but stare. Just like every other part of him, the parts of Link that Rhett has never seen are perfectly human. He’s beautiful, perfect, and carefully crafted. Rhett can’t tear his eyes away, stilling with his hands on Link’s hips. 

“You love me, Rhett,” Link says, the playfulness gone again from his voice. “Don’t you?” 

Dragging his eyes upwards to meet Link’s, Rhett finds himself admitting the truth with half as much trouble as he expected. “Yes,” he says. 

“Well,” Link replies, dropping both hands to Rhett’s chest, his usual friskiness back in full force as he tweaks at Rhett’s nipples. “As much as I can with what I have, I love you, too. I promise that. As much as I am capable of it, all the love I can give, I will give to you.” Link is earnest, hands roving restlessly over Rhett’s chest, down his stomach, flitting too quickly over Rhett’s aching erection. Rhett whimpers and bites down hard on his lip, pained with the time Link takes. Never has he wanted someone so badly before, so badly it hurts deep in his stomach, deep in his chest. 

“Thank you, Link,” Rhett breathes, choking on nothing with no desire to come up for air. It means the world, the love (or mimicry of it) he gets from his little robot. But now is not the time to tell Link so. The air feels as heavy as Link on Rhett’s thighs and now is simply not the time. Later, Rhett will tell Link everything. But for now, Rhett speaks with his hands. Later, he will ask Link silly questions like, “What’s the science behind robotic erections?” and, “How wonderful is it to feel pleasure and no pain?” But for now, Rhett quiets. 

Link’s body does the talking. He’s lithe, lovely, hands planted firmly on Rhett’s chest. He preens when he catches Rhett staring without blinking. He tosses his hair back, glasses slipping down his nose, and he giggles to himself as he pushes them back up. There’s too much to say to try saying it all. Rhett loves him, heart swelling with it; Rhett loves him more than he should. It doesn’t matter right now, the morality behind loving someone as pure and simple and good as Link. It doesn’t matter. Rhett loves him thoroughly enough to make up for every part of this that is sinful and wrong. 

Link lifts one hand to trail it down and wrap it loosely around Rhett, trailing a line of fire from base to tip with his thumb. He catches a bead of pre-come with his fingertips and holds his hand before his eyes, examining the pearly drop with wide eyes. Rhett could watch this forever, Link marveling every step of the way. He could lie here, on fire from the chest down, for the rest of his life. If Link asked it of him, Rhett would agree without hesitation. 

But Link asks nothing of him. Instead, he rises up on his knees, his thighs bracketing Rhett’s hips. He reaches behind himself to take Rhett back into his hand, eyes locked on Rhett’s face. “May I?” he asks, pretty pink mouth turned up into a smile that sends Rhett’s heart stuttering anew. 

“You may,” Rhett replies. It’s a ridiculous exchange, one of many between Rhett and his little robot, but all thoughts of humor and ridiculousness leave Rhett as Link begins to move. “Wait,” Rhett breathes. He fights through a haze of red, aflame from his lungs to his toes. “Wait, don’t you…do you need…?”

Link titters, shaking his head so his hair falls over his eyes. “I was made for this,” he whispers, reminding Rhett exactly where they stand. “I don’t need anything but you. Now, please, Rhett. Show me how much you love me.” 

Rhett watches Link’s face as Link sinks down, using his hand to guide Rhett where he needs to go. Link’s eyelids flutter as he moves, opening up around Rhett, lowering himself bit by bit. He is like nothing else Rhett has ever felt. He’s tight, perfectly so, but where he should be warm, he is cool. Rhett could erupt right here and now, just like this, just from watching Link sink down until the backs of his thighs meet Rhett’s hips. He’s beautiful, perfect, stunning, his mouth open to a sinful degree as he tips his head back and gives Rhett a better view of his throat. The urge to kiss that mouth proves overwhelming. Reeling, head spinning, Rhett reaches out and takes hold of Link by the shoulders. Link lets himself be pulled close, hands cupping Rhett’s cheeks, and Link accepts the kiss he is given. The two of them don’t move for a heated, painful moment, Rhett unfathomably close to spilling just from the feeling of Link all around him. 

“Make love to me, Rhett,” Link says for the second time, lips caressing Rhett’s. And this time, Rhett obeys. He holds Link by his narrow hips and clings to him for dear life, experimenting in the tilt of his own hips. He thrusts, stars splashing across his vision, biting hard at the insides of his cheeks to keep his climax at bay. It’s too soon, he’s not ready; he wants Link to stay here until morning. He wants Link to stay here forever. 

But forever is a deadline Rhett isn’t capable of meeting. Aching, sweating, trembling from his stomach to his thighs, Rhett moves. Rhett rolls his hips, Link’s head lolling as he leans into Rhett’s chest on the heels of his hands. 

“That’s so good, Rhett,” Link says. “You are so _good_.” 

The way Link speaks, his voice coming from a faraway place, Rhett believes him. He moves faster, guiding Link, his little robot taking the hint and taking control. Link throws his head back, whispers Rhett’s name, and gives Rhett all he has. Link rides Rhett like this is not the first time, like this is nothing new. Despite knowing otherwise, Rhett grapples with a painful surge of jealousy: he is not the first person to see Link like this. It’s fleeting, the ridiculous notion, but Rhett digs his fingers into Link’s hips and growls, “Mine.”

“Yours,” Link agrees. With his head tipped far back, all Rhett can see is the pale slope of his throat, the bulge of his Adam’s apple, the sharp angle of his jaw. Unable to see Link’s face, Rhett’s eyes wander back down. Link is just as hard as Rhett, manufactured manhood filled with something far stranger than blood. The thought makes Rhett’s stomach twist up but not in the most terrible way; his insides burn as Link keeps him teetering on the edge of oblivion. 

“God, Link…” Rhett sighs, finding it hard to breathe, gasping for air like a man drowning. Link finds a graceless sort of rhythm as he rolls his hips, hands planted on Rhett’s ribs. 

“Shh,” Link replies. He hushes Rhett, the action unexpected and small, and Rhett quiets. The world narrows to Rhett, to Link, to the flickering yellow light of candles. Burnt down to the bottom, one by one the flames go out, leaving the room in almost perfect darkness. Despite his little robot being no more than a shadow, Rhett keeps his eyes wide open to find Link in the dark. 

“You’re so perfect,” Rhett breathes. “God, you’re so…”

“So are you,” Link replies. “Now, shh.” Link moves faster, Rhett’s brain scattering in every direction. He closes his eyes and whimpers, a meek attempt at trying to keep a moan at bay. Link is everywhere, all around him, warmed by Rhett’s body heat. Another strange thought, another part of this that tells Rhett to stop, but it’s too late now. It’s too late to go back, and Rhett would not want to if he could. He has never felt so good, loved by a man who is not a man at all. (What does that make Rhett?) He holds tight to Link, working with him, back arched to a painful degree to get all of Link he can. For all the noise Rhett makes, gnawing at his cheeks to try and keep it down, Link is utterly silent. For all the sweat on Rhett’s chest, in his palms, on his throat, Link is cool and dry. This is the very last thing Rhett should be doing. But the world is simply Rhett and Link and there’s no time now to look back now. 

When Link breaks the silence, Rhett feels he could die. 

Link lets a whimper slip from his lips, a tiny sound that comes out breathy and light. And then he does it again. With the rhythm of Rhett moving deep inside him, Link moans, the sound the prettiest thing Rhett has ever heard. It’s heady and high and it goes straight to Rhett’s core, stoking the flames already burning there. He lets his hands move of their own accord, sliding from Link’s hips. Tentative, not daring to breathe, Rhett hovers one hand over Link’s erection, the other tight on Link’s thigh. Even in the dark, Link sees him. Link sees everything. 

“Go on,” Link says. “Touch me.” And Rhett does. He touches Link, exploring, running his fingers along smooth, soft skin. Link’s voice tilts up, keening, as Rhett closes his hand and begins to move. “Oh, Rhett, that feels so good,” Link coos. “Oh, Rhett, that feels _wonderful_.” Rhett strokes Link as carefully as he can, the word _fragile_ still banging at the inside of his head, but Link is solid. Link is anything but fragile; he is thick and rock hard in Rhett’s hand and more than anything Rhett wants to _see_. _Next time we will do this with the lights on_ , Rhett lets himself think before reminding himself that _next time_ might never come. Link fights Rhett for control, Rhett distracted by the perfection of Link in his hand. 

“Sweat for me,” Link commands. “Breathe for me.” He gives orders like he is a king and Rhett is under his command, like he is the master of this side of the universe and Rhett can only obey. (He might just be right.) “Come undone for me.” 

“ _Link_ ,” Rhett groans, taking Link’s sweet nothings as permission to break his own silence. But Link slips two fingers into Rhett’s mouth, hooking them under his bottom teeth and drawing Rhett’s mouth open. 

“Shh,” Link commands. “Be quiet for me.” 

In reply, Rhett does all he can to regain control. He bears down with his teeth on Link’s fingers, past the point of where the pressure should break skin. He bucks up his hips, taking the rhythm from Link’s beautiful body, stealing all control from under Link’s hands. Rhett is going to explode; he sees nothing but stars, Link’s eyes flashing in the dark, and the shadow of Link as he moves. 

“Let go,” Link says, and Rhett opens his mouth to release Link’s fingers. He draws them away to run them over Rhett’s nipples and down to his navel. Link reaches behind himself to trail his fingertips feather-light over the seam of Rhett’s balls. And just like that, control is his again. Rhett moans, breath leaving his body, the hand he has on Link tightening until Link scolds him with a single twist of his fingertips. Rhett gasps, pain mingling with the heat building in his guts and behind his eyes. “You are so, so good,” Link whispers. And Rhett is going to die here. He knows it; there is no coming back from something this good. 

“Link,” Rhett sighs, simple. This, Link allows. Panting, breathless, Rhett chokes as he tries to speak. “I’m gonna…I can’t…” He can’t keep quiet, he can’t keep still, he can’t be half as good as Link deserves. Blessedly, Link doesn’t ask him to try. 

“Rhett,” Link whispers in the dark. “Rhett, come for me. Come for me.” He leans down and Rhett meets him halfway, the two of them sharing a kiss, Rhett releasing Link to run both hands down the slope of Link’s back. Desperate to have Link back in his hand the moment he lets go, Rhett whimpers into Link’s lips. Link tastes nothing like Rhett expected; he tastes sweet. There is nothing artificial in the taste of his mouth, the only thing inhuman about it the dryness of his tongue. It’s not unpleasant but it’s strange enough to remind Rhett this is merely a mimicry, a copy. _This isn’t real_. But Link says his name again and it sure as hell feels real to Rhett. 

The kiss breaks and Rhett drops back onto the bed, the last of the candles flickering out. In the dark, inside Link, Rhett begins to unravel. 

“So good,” Link says, voice sweet. “You’re so good to me.” The sweet words are nothing Rhett deserves but he laps them up, breathing an impossibility as his stomach tightens. “That’s it,” Link coos, and Rhett is lost. “Finish for me.” 

Unseeing, heart in his throat, Rhett tips over the edge. His orgasm hits him like it’s his first, like he has been waiting for this his whole life. He tastes blood as he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep quiet, to keep from crying. He can’t catch his breath; he can’t find his limbs. All he has to know that he’s real is the feeling of Link all around him, the heat between them, Link’s hand on his chest. 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link whispers, all command leaving him. “Don’t cry.” Because he can read Rhett like a book, because he knows what Rhett is going to do before he does it. Link lifts his hands as Rhett throws one arm over his eyes, intent on not letting Link see. Link breaks the connection between them, Rhett slipping out of him, slick, softening, and spent. And he is not going to cry. Why the hell would he be crying? “Let me in,” Link orders. Rhett is not the only one who is allowed to give commands, it seems, and despite the hot tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, Rhett obeys. In the darkness, Link lies on top of Rhett, heedless of the stickiness between them. He drapes his body over Rhett’s, careful, and he burrows his face into the crook of Rhett’s throat. His glasses jab painfully at Rhett’s skin but Rhett takes the comfort he is given. He isn’t crying, not exactly, but for Rhett, _making love_ and _making amends_ go hand in hand. He’s sorry, feeling sick, but he’s happier than he has any right to be. He cradles Link to him, lifting his arm from his face to stroke Link’s hair. The only sweat on Link’s skin is Rhett’s, the only heat on Link’s body from Rhett, too. 

None of this is okay. But Rhett catches his breath, mind catching up to him, and he presses a kiss to Link’s forehead. 

“Thank you,” Rhett breathes. He sounds as spent as he feels, voice ragged at the edges from crying out. Sticky and hot and exhausted to the bone, Rhett exhales into Link’s soft hair. Link is pliant in his arms, as boneless as Rhett, behaving very much like a man drained. “Was that…is that…can we…?”

“It was good for me, too,” Link replies, sparing Rhett the effort of asking a million questions at once. “Making love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” he asks. “I did not expect it to be so good…” For the first time, Link quiets before the end of a sentence. He trails off, going quiet, trailing his hand up and down Rhett’s sweat-dampened chest. “That was something very special,” he says, tracing a circle around one of Rhett’s nipples. “Wasn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. “Thank you…thank you for sharing it with me.” In the morning, he might regret it; in the morning, he might die from the guilt he keeps at bay by the skin of his teeth. In the morning he might look at Link and decide all of this is over. But right now, he feels he could fly. Tears threatening to fall, he kisses Link again and again, every place he can reach. In the morning, he will ask questions. In the morning, he will clean himself off and wash away the horror of all the wrong he’s done. But he’s alive, isn’t he? No one strikes him down for touching Link this way. As if to tempt fate, Rhett reaches down to brush his fingers along the cleft of Link’s ass. Link shivers, making a small noise of contentment, and Rhett blushes anew as he feels the wetness in between Link’s cheeks. 

This is too good and too much; this is everything. 

Rhett doesn’t tell Link as much, despite his promise to be honest. Link can read him like a book. Link has to know. 

“You are unhappy,” Link whispers, hand stilling on Rhett’s chest.

“No,” Rhett replies, nose buried in Link’s hair. “No, I’m happy beyond belief. I just…”

“I was made for you,” Link interrupts. “Don’t forget that. There is nothing I would not do for you. Nothing in the world. But that? That was not something I did to serve you, Rhett. I wanted it, too. You are not the only one who is in need of company.” 

Rhett recalls the warning that robots left alone, robots left unfulfilled, cause chaos in the wake of their loneliness. He will not do that to Link, not ever. Scared all over again and utterly unsure, Rhett tightens the arm he has draped over Link’s shoulders. “Thank you, Link,” he breathes. The rest of what he wants to say, he keeps to himself. There’s no need to say _I love you_ for the moment. Link knows. 

Trembling and coming down, Rhett holds his little robot in his arms. And just like that, limbs tangled with Link’s, Rhett falls asleep. 

 

In the morning, he wakes to find Link still burrowed in his arms. Unlike Rhett, Link did not sleep. 

“I am sorry I didn’t power myself down,” Link says, smiling sheepishly as Rhett stammers himself awake. “You did not ask me to, and I was content to watch you sleep. You are perfect in your sleep as you are when you’re awake.” He kisses the tip of Rhett’s nose and leaves Rhett speechless. 

In the end, the questions Rhett has keep him from drifting back off to sleep. He asks, and Link answers. 

“Why the hell do robots get erections?”

“Oh, see, you forget what I was made for! I can make love to you just as you did to me! I cannot orgasm, unfortunately, but that does mean I can go on for quite some time!”

“Uh huh. Are you happy with me?”

“Happy as I am capable of being, yes.” 

“Are you glad we did that?”

“Yes.”

“What does it feel like, for you, to…to make love?” Rhett has not uttered the term in years, in as long as he can remember; every relationship he has had was about _fucking_ , about quick and dirty, about finishing and sweating and flashing teeth and fingernails. It makes him blush, Link delighted as Rhett goes red from cheeks to chest, and Link tells Rhett how he feels. 

“It is the most wonderful thing I have yet to feel,” Link replies. He looks at Rhett, glasses askew, hair a mess, marred by Rhett’s hands. “And for you?” 

“Me too, Link,” Rhett says. The more time that passes between then and now, between making love and waking up, the more Rhett realizes the guilt is far behind him. Whatever lies ahead has to be even better than the moments he and his little robot have already shared. With Link cradled to him, with Link soft and sweet in his arms, Rhett feels lighter than he has in years. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ................:)
> 
> A very special extra thank you to [mythicalemily](http://mythicalemily.tumblr.com/) for, despite being on vacation, working her ass off to edit this in time for me. I love ya to pieces and can't say thanks enough <3 
> 
> As always, you can find me [here](http://reedytenors.tumblr.com/) on tumblr; come talk to me anytime! <3


	4. Sinking

The week gets away from Rhett. Christmas comes and goes and his visit with his family goes with it. His parents are their normal selves, kind and talkative as they ask Link about his life before Rhett. Link makes up stories as he goes, telling Rhett’s parents he used to be an acrobat before he settled down. He goes as far as to demonstrate, standing up from the dinner table to fall backwards into a backbend. He rises when Rhett chokes on his glass of water at the sight of Link’s exposed belly. Other than the blush that won’t leave his cheeks for the rest of dinner, Christmas goes off without a hitch. Rhett hardly gets his parents out the door before the urge to drag Link to bed overwhelms him. Giggling and pliant, Link follows as Rhett pulls him by the hand. 

As the week passes, New Year’s Eve coming up fast, some things get easier and others get harder. Rhett finds it nearly impossible to leave his bed in the mornings, Link clinging to him, refusing to let go. They share Rhett’s bed most nights, lying tangled up together, naked and warm. Rhett is not used to sharing a bed and it takes him a while to remember how. At first, Link powers down at night, nuzzled close to Rhett, and is gone to the world until his internal alarm wakes him in the morning. But it’s a lonely arrangement and Rhett asks his little robot to stay awake with him instead. He asks Link to stay awake, to keep Rhett company until he falls asleep. Link agrees. He cuddles close, face burrowed in Rhett’s chest, and he talks. He babbles about nothing in particular, about the things he learns, and about the happiness he feels creeping into every mechanical chasm in his body. 

Rhett listens until sleep takes him, the voice of his little robot a lullaby. 

No longer sleeping alone, sleep gets easier. But facing the real world gets harder. 

Rhett goes to work and spends the day looking at the clock, drumming at his desk with his fingertips and chewing the insides of his cheeks impatiently. It takes a long time for his coworkers to take notice of his restlessness, but when they do, they are equal parts persistent and insufferable. 

“D’ya have someone at home waitin’ for you?” Not Alex asks, leaning on the wall of Rhett’s cubicle one rainy mid-afternoon. “A robotic little someone, maybe?” He says it with more curiosity than malice, but Rhett tenses anyway. 

“Shuddup, Mike,” Rhett says (he recently learned for sure that Not Alex’s name is, in fact, Mike instead of Not Alex). 

“It’s a serious question!” Mike says, pretending to be affronted by Rhett’s snappiness. “Is he just hangin’ around waiting for you to come home? Or does he, like, work for you? Does he do chores wearing a little maid outfit? Does he…what?!” Mike leaps back, spilling coffee from the mug in his hand, as Rhett rises from his chair and whirls on him. 

“Get out of my cubicle, Mike,” Rhett says. He towers over Mike, his coworker’s face pale as he looks up at Rhett. He has a fresh coffee stain on his tie and a brand new look of terror in his eyes. “Please don’t talk to me about anything but work related issues, all right?” 

“I’m just trying to be friendly,” Mike scowls, shrugging. “Guess you have all the friendship you need…” 

“Mike!” Rhett thunders, and Mike jumps back again like a startled deer. A few close-by faces turn to watch Rhett stare down at Mike, the two of them squaring off. Rhett is not one to cause a scene, but he thinks it might be about time to give it a try. Before he can get mad enough to call Mike a few things that have never passed his lips, Mike takes another step back. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Mike says, one hand up in surrender as the other works coffee from the fabric of his tie. “I just wanted to know, man! No need to get so testy!” He backs out of Rhett’s cubicle and with one hand still up, he walks away. Rhett looks beyond him to find the few faces that were turned towards him looking away as fast as they can. Great. Not only does everyone in the office think Rhett is antisocial, too quiet, and weird, now they will be adding _angry_ to the list. It’s just as well. Despite the mocking way in which he said it, Mike is hardly wrong. Rhett doesn’t want for any company other than Link’s. What does he care what the people at work think of him? 

He sits back down, going back to staring at the clock. He doesn’t care at all. Not one bit. 

 

Link and Rhett work through the list of movies in Link’s book, starting from the beginning (Link’s idea) instead of picking and choosing the ones that actually look interesting (Rhett’s idea). Tonight, Rhett lounges in the living room with his feet in Link’s lap, the little robot running his fingers up and down Rhett’s soles. 

“That tickles,” Rhett says, swatting Link’s hand away for the tenth time. “Cut it out.”

“I would if I thought you meant that,” Link replies. He turns his attention back to tonight’s movie, _The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari_ , and Rhett follows suit. The film is creepy enough to keep Rhett engaged, but there are other things he would rather be doing. Link catches Rhett staring at him instead of the TV and he grins, tearing his eyes from the black and white somnambulist on the screen. His teeth flash as he looks instead at Rhett. “You are easily distracted,” Link says. 

“Only by you,” Rhett replies. 

Smirking, Link shakes his head. “I am just sitting here. There is nothing to be distracted by.” He goes back to watching the movie, but not before running one hand up the length of Rhett’s thigh. Link stops just short of the pocket of Rhett’s plaid pajama pants and then lifts his hand, face betraying nothing. 

“You’re so full of it,” Rhett says, and in the next moment, the movie is forgotten. Rhett moves first and Link follows his lead. With a question in the gesture, Rhett reaches for his little robot. Link answers the question without saying a word. He climbs on top of Rhett on the loveseat and pins him to the armrest by his shoulders. 

“I got you,” Link says, smiling down at Rhett. 

“Yeah?” Rhett replies. “I think I got you.” Rhett slides his hands up under Link’s T-shirt to grab at his hips, Link doing a little shimmy to give Rhett better access. (The little robot has a lot of pretty parts but his hips might just be Rhett’s favorite.) Link giggles as Rhett’s fingertips graze his soft skin, Link’s mouth ghosting down the slope of Rhett’s throat. Link responds beautifully to the hands on his hips, but something is missing. There is something Rhett wishes he could see. “This would give you goose bumps,” Rhett says, trailing his fingers along Link’s hipbone. “If…if you were…”

“If I were real,” Link replies. He pauses in his exploration of Rhett’s throat with his mouth, lips stilling. It’s there, in the hollow of Rhett’s throat, that Link whispers, “I wish I could give that to you.” 

Rhett kisses Link’s temple and tells him, “There are a lot more important things than chasing goose bumps, Link. Here’s one of them.” 

Link starts when Rhett tucks a finger under his chin and guides it up. Rhett waits for Link to meet his eyes, to really look at him, and when blue, blue eyes lock in on Rhett’s, he smiles. Link blinks, glasses smudged from being pressed against Rhett’s skin, but in return, he frowns. “What is it?” he asks. 

“This,” Rhett replies. He kisses Link, a soft kiss, a kiss that promises more. Link sinks into it, a happy little noise escaping him. Rhett feels much the same. The black and white movie reduced to flashes in the background, Rhett makes good on the promise his first kiss made. He kisses Link again, deeper this time, Link mirroring him. When Rhett comes up to gasp for air he says, “This,” and shows Link something new. He bears down on Link’s plump lower lip with his teeth, Link going utterly still. Rhett pulls Link’s lip into his mouth and glides his tongue across the soft, sweet skin until Link makes a noise of surprise. Rhett only lets go to ask, “Do you like that?”

Eyes shining, Link nods. 

Rhett goes back in for more, Link pliant under his hands. And then the doorbell rings. Like matching poles of two magnets, Rhett and Link spring apart. They look at one another, dragged back to reality, and when the bell rings again, Rhett groans. 

“Up, sweetness,” he says, Link giving a coy little smile at the term of endearment. He slides off Rhett’s lap and settles back into his side of the loveseat, a safe distance away. Rhett goes to answer the door, but Link calls him back. 

“ _Sweetness_ ,” he coos, laughing with one finger held between his teeth. “You might want to fix your hair before you open the door.” 

Swearing, Rhett cards back the hair that Link’s hands mussed, neatening the sides as the doorbell rings for the third time. “Oh, I’m coming,” he gripes, and he rips open the front door to find his brother on the porch. “Cole,” Rhett says, his brother already looking around him to eye Link on the loveseat. “What’s up, man?” It’s not like Cole to stop by without calling first, Rhett’s brother almost as antisocial as Rhett. But Cole brushes past Rhett to get out of the cold and into the living room, closing the door behind him as Rhett steps out of the way. When Cole looks up to meet Rhett’s eyes, Rhett’s heart plummets. 

“What is it?” he asks. He would know the look of guilt on Cole’s face anywhere. It’s the same look he wore when he lied and told their mother it was Rhett who set fire to the neighbor’s rosebush. It’s the same look he wore when Rhett caught him on a date with the girl Rhett liked. Whatever reason Cole has for being here, it can’t be good. As if to confirm Rhett’s suspicion, Cole dances on the spot, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. 

“Can we talk…alone?” Cole asks, eyes flitting to the loveseat. Rhett follows his brother’s gaze to look at Link, his little robot greeting Cole with a cheerful wave and a smile. Cole echoes the motion half-heartedly and turns back to Rhett. “Please?”

Rhett glances at Link, curled up by himself on the loveseat, and when Link catches him looking, he beams. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Rhett says. Link nods. 

“Take your time,” Link replies, one side of his smile quirking up as he smirks. “I have to rewind the movie, anyway.” He drops Rhett a wink and Rhett feels he could melt into the floor. 

Anxious and mortified, Rhett takes hold of his brother by the shoulder and turns him back towards the front door. “Go on, then,” Rhett says, and he follows Cole back out into the icy December air. On the front porch, Cole continues his nervous little sidestep, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his denim jacket. “What do you want, Cole?” Rhett asks. It’s frigid outside, the sky overcast and gray. Rhett mimics his brother’s posture without meaning to and corrects it, pulling his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms instead. 

“Rhett,” Cole says. “I’m sorry, man, but Ma asked me to check up on you. She said you haven’t been answering her calls. She was worried you and your…your _boyfriend_ broke up or something and you were too distraught to pick up the phone. Obviously, that’s not the case.” Cole glances at the door behind Rhett as if he can see Link through it, his eyes narrow. 

“Look, you can tell her I’m fine. I’ve just been really busy, Cole. All right?” So Rhett has been foregoing his phone in favor of spending more time with Link. So Rhett has hardly been keeping his phone charged, ignoring every call that comes through. He didn’t realize anyone would notice, that’s all, but the stern look on his older brother’s face tells him he was wrong. 

“Busy,” Cole scoffs. 

“Yeah, busy,” Rhett replies. His stomach twists up more the longer his brother looks at him like he’s repulsive. Hell, part of Rhett is still sure of that himself. “Tell her I’m sorry, yeah?”

“Tell her yourself, man,” Cole says. “Tell her you’re too busy playing house with a robot to call her back. I’m sure that’ll go over well. And that’s not even mentioning all the other shit you’re doing with it.”

“Him,” Rhett says. 

“What?”

“Him. His name is Link, Cole. He’s not an _it_.” 

At that, Cole’s narrowed eyes go wide. He looks up at Rhett, his jaw working hard, and when he speaks, he sounds like he barely restrains fury. “You’re really in deep with this thing, aren’t you?” he asks. “He’s no replacement for human contact, Rhett. Ma’s worried about you. Hell, _I’m_ worried about you. We always worry, you know? You haven’t been the…the, uh. _Happiest_. Since…all the way back before… Since…” He flicks his eyes away for a moment, shuffling his feet, and Rhett tries to ignore the plummeting of his heart at the memories Cole brings up. “But this?” Cole goes on, cutting himself off, not giving Rhett a chance to dwell. “This is a next level coping mechanism, man. You need to get back to the real world, Rhett. We miss you here.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Rhett replies, startling his older brother into silence. “You have a family, Cole. We talked about this. You have a family and I have nothing. You can’t even imagine how hard it was to get up every morning knowing I was going to spend the entire day alone. You can’t even _imagine_. I wasn’t made to be alone, Cole. And when I…when she…” Rhett clears his throat and trails off, unable to say the same things that quieted his brother. “Look, I’ve been alone a long time. You have to understand, man. It was killing me. So you can screw off with your self-righteous attitude, all right? You have your life and I have mine.”

Rhett’s brother regards him with a stern face, mouth set tight. 

“I’m sorry,” Rhett says. “I just…”

“No worries,” Cole interrupts, hands up, breath ghosting out before his face in the cold. “I’m just the messenger, okay? Ma’s worried and it got me worried, too. I thought, maybe, you were sort of…sinking. Like…like before.” He shuffles his feet again, looking up at the sky instead of at Rhett. “Looks like it might snow. Not a lot, but. You know. Enough.” He shrugs and meets Rhett’s eyes. Rhett looks away. 

“Yeah,” Rhett replies. “A snowy New Year’s.” He leans on his front door, bowing his head, and Cole surprises him by clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“Look, it was out of line,” Cole says. “For me to insinuate you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re right. It’s your life. I just…you can’t blame me for worrying.”

“No,” Rhett says. “I can’t.”

For a moment, the two of them stand in uncomfortable silence. Cole drops his hand and cups it over his face, warming both hands with his breath. 

“Go on, get out of the cold,” Rhett says, jerking his chin up towards his brother’s truck in the driveway. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

Cole looks at him like the last thing he wants to do is leave. But in the end, he nods, reaches out for Rhett, and pulls him into a hug. Rhett returns it, sinking his chin onto his brother’s shoulder, and Cole lets the hug linger far longer than he has in years. Rhett is the one who has to pull away. When he does, Cole gives him a strange look, one that makes Rhett uneasy. 

“Just don’t be a stranger,” Cole says. “Don’t be…don’t stay cooped up at home because it’s the easy thing to do. I love you, Rhett, and you know I just want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

“Do I?” Rhett replies. 

“Yes. Whatever you might think, the answer is yes. You’re one of the best people I know, Rhett. There has to be someone out there who will love you.”

“Someone who loves me is waiting for me in my living room, Cole,” Rhett says, and the admission marks the end of Cole’s patience with Rhett. He nods curtly and starts to back away down the driveway. 

“Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you to forget who’s real and who’s not here.” 

“You said you trust me to know what I’m doing,” Rhett reminds him as Cole’s back hits the front grill of his truck. 

“I do, I do. It’s just…” Cole pauses, running a hand through his shortly cropped hair and giving up. “You know what? I do. I trust you. Just don’t forget I’m here for you, okay? Just across town, anytime you need me. All of us are.” 

Rhett thanks him, waves him off, and leans for a long time against his front door with his eyes screwed up tight. He doesn’t want Link to see him with tears in his eyes, that’s all. He blinks against the gray sky and stays stone-still until snow begins to fall. It’s not often that it snows more than a dusting, but as flakes start to cling to the grass, Rhett envisions a white New Year’s Eve. With the vision comes one of Link at his side, the two of them watching the ball drop together. Dragged back to the present by thoughts of the near future, Rhett pushes off from the door and lets himself back inside. Link is right where Rhett left him, curled up on the loveseat. 

“Are you okay?” Link asks. 

“Yeah,” Rhett replies. His face is red and his eyes bloodshot. He doesn’t have to see himself to know. He must look like hell, but Link doesn’t say a thing. Instead, he pats the space on the loveseat at his side, inviting Rhett back to him. Rhett goes. He settles into Link’s arms, the little robot tucking himself in close to Rhett’s side, face pressed to Rhett’s throat. 

“ _Are_ you okay?” Link asks again. 

This time, Rhett tells the truth. “Not really, no.” 

“That’s okay,” Link replies. “I am still yours and I am still here for you. That makes it better, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, honey,” Rhett replies, voice coming out softer than he intended. He lets it stay that way. “That makes it better.” 

 

On New Year’s Eve, Link watches bubbles pop at the top of a glass of champagne, his chin on the countertop as his eyes follow the fizz. His spine is bent at an awkward angle, the curve of his body an invitation, and Rhett steps up behind him. Rhett presses his chest flush to Link’s spine, lowering his chin to Link’s shoulder. 

“Sometimes I look at things like this and I wish with all my might that I could taste it,” Link says. There’s a tinge of sorrow in his singsong voice, a tinge of longing. “What does it feel like, to have something popping in your mouth like that?”

“You could always try it,” Rhett says. He turns his head to get at Link’s throat, pressing his lips to cool skin. 

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Link sighs. 

“What would happen to you if you tried?”

“Oh, I imagine I would break entirely,” Link says simply, his voice spiraling further downwards. At the absurdity of the statement, Rhett wants to laugh. But his little robot is sad, as sad as he can be, and Rhett wants to fix it. 

“Want me to describe the feeling to you?” Rhett asks. 

At that, Link perks up. “I would like that very much,” he says. He lifts his head and tips it back, leaning on Rhett’s shoulder as Rhett moves with him. Once they stand up straight, bodies pressed tight together, Link takes Rhett’s hands and guides them. Link sways his hips as Rhett’s hands land on them. “Show me,” Link says, his voice a whisper. “Show me, Rhett. Show me.” 

Rhett sips his champagne slowly, letting it bubble up in his mouth, swishing it from cheek to cheek to make Link giggle. He picks Link up and places him on the island, the little robot laughing with his hands over his mouth. Link watches Rhett smack his lips around the mouthful of champagne, the liquid dry as liquid can be. Rhett has never liked champagne, but since the occasion calls for it, he gives it a good shot. Trying to like it does Rhett no good; he grimaces as he swallows and Link catches his face in both hands, still laughing his tinkling laugh. 

“You are so pretty, Rhett,” Link says. “Even when you pull funny faces.” His hands on Rhett’s cheeks, Link leans in and kisses him. He kisses like he chases the flavor of champagne on Rhett’s tongue, the kiss dazzling in its fervor. When he pulls back, he smiles. “Explain,” he says, eyes as intense as the husk in his voice. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“It feels like…like there’s something exploding in your mouth. Like there’s a _million_ tiny somethings exploding on your tongue. It’s not…it doesn’t hurt!” He laughs at the confusion on Link’s face. “It’s fine! But I don’t…I’m not good with words. I’m trying to tell you, but I’m just not good at it.”

“You are doing wonderfully,” Link counters. “Try again.” 

“It’s like…electricity,” Rhett tries. “It’s like fireworks. Sparklers. I don’t know. It’s like…okay, it’s like stars. You know the way they glimmer? It feels like how that looks. Like pinpricks of light. That’s the best I’ve got, I guess. It feels like…it feels like the way shooting stars look. Like…oh! Like the way rain feels on your skin.” Rhett gets an idea, a strange one, one that won’t leave him. “Let me show you.” He offers Link his hand. And Link takes it. 

It’s snowing again tonight, a sprinkling of it over the dusting from the other day. Rhett drags on his winter coat and waits for Link to slip into his unlaced sneakers. Outside, out in the snow, Rhett pays no mind to the cold and instead reaches for Link. He pulls back one sleeve of Link’s nightshirt, revealing a pale forearm, and he holds Link’s hand as they stand close together in the dark. 

“D’you feel that?” Rhett whispers, face close to Link’s. 

“The snow?” Link asks. 

“Yes. The snow.”

“Yes.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Cold,” Link replies. 

Rhett follows flakes of snow with his eyes as they settle into Link’s skin, melting against him (much like Rhett does). Snow falls, light as feathers, into Link’s raven hair and into his eyelashes. _He’s my little snow angel_ , Rhett allows himself to think. It’s a fleeting thought, but he lets it cross his mind anyhow. There’s no harm in that. Link looks angelic as he always does, his eyes on the flakes that land on his arm. 

“How does it really feel?” Rhett replies. “Tell me the truth, please.”

“It feels like shooting stars,” Link whispers, and in the next moment, he squeals with glee as Rhett gathers him up in his arms. Link leaps up into Rhett’s arms, wrapping his legs around Rhett’s waist, pressing kisses into every bit of Rhett he can. “I care for you so deeply, Rhett,” Link says in between kisses. “I know it means nothing. I know what you think when you think of me. I am not real. But…” He nuzzles into Rhett’s neck, heavy in Rhett’s arms. “You will have to believe me that in every way I can, in every atom that makes me up, I care for you. Please allow me to tell you I love you.” 

Rhett does not pause, not even for a moment, when he chokes on sudden tears and tells Link, “All right, then. Tell me.” 

“I love you,” Link says. “As much as I can.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Rhett says. Link draws back to look Rhett in the face, his blue eyes gleaming behind snow-flecked glasses. Rhett answers the question in Link’s eyes before he gets the chance to ask it. “Like you’re sorry. Because it’s enough, Link. All right? The way you love me is enough.” 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link whispers, and just like that, the rest of the world falls away. Rhett carries his little robot inside, kicking the door shut behind them. He lays Link down on the sofa and kisses him until he purrs, Times Square screaming on TV. The countdown serves as a warning: a new year is coming and it’s coming up fast, time passing as it always does. Link may be patient but Rhett is not, and time is not on his side. In the new year, Rhett is going to be forty years old. In the new year, there will be new choices to make, and in the new year, there will be more things to get terribly wrong. But maybe it won’t be all bad. Because in the new year, Link is going to be right there along with Rhett. For once, for the first year in many, Rhett is not going to be alone. That has to count for something. (If time is not on Rhett’s side, at least something is.) 

Rhett strips Link of his clothes and Link reaches out for him. Link drags Rhett’s shirt over his head and tosses it behind the sofa, Rhett’s pants following his shirt. All that’s left of the worry weighing Rhett down is a pile of clothes on the floor. With Link’s hands on him, with Link whispering his name, Rhett has nothing to worry about. 

“I love you!” Link cries, no longer hiding behind the terrible, miserable _but_. What he gives is good enough. What he gives is beautiful. Rhett takes it, all the love he can get, and he does what he can to give it back. He leaves a trail of kisses all the way down the slope of Link’s body, down his chest, down to his hips. Where Rhett’s chest heaves from the burning need in his lungs, Link’s is still. And where Rhett’s heart pounds in his head, his own heartbeat all he can hear, Link’s mechanical heart beats exactly where it should. It sounds in his chest and nowhere else, no need for blood to pump through his body. Rhett rises back up to the spot where Link’s body gives the impression of life. He presses his ear to Link’s chest and he listens. 

It takes him a long time to catch his breath. When he does, his ragged breathing slowing, Link drops a careful hand into his hair and makes his breath catch anew. 

“I love you,” Link whispers. 

“Your heart,” Rhett breathes in reply. The New Year is coming, the countdown down to a minute, but Rhett hardly hears it. All he hears is Link. 

“What about it?” Link asks. With Rhett lying on him, their legs tangled up over the arm of the couch, he doesn’t make an attempt to move. All he does is card Rhett’s hair back and rest his cheek against the sweat-slick skin of Rhett’s forehead. 

“It beats for me,” Rhett replies.

“Yes,” Link agrees. 

And that is all Rhett can ask for. As the ball drops in New York City and the world erupts around it, Rhett feels his heart could too. It swells and swells and threatens to burst, far outpacing the steady beat of Link’s manmade heart. But the way Link’s heart beats is just fine with Rhett. As long as it beats, Rhett can’t ask for anything more. 

“I love you,” Rhett sighs, and he can feel the smile on Link’s face without having to see it. Rhett smirks, sliding his hand down Link’s chest, and he adds, “As much as I can.” 

“It’s more than I can manage, however much it is,” Link replies. 

“No,” Rhett says. “I’ve been broken a long time, Link. There’s a helluva lot of things I’ve gotta learn about love.” 

“That’s okay,” Link replies. “Me too.” 

That is all the talking they do for a while. When Rhett comes up for air, heart beating wildly, he feels he could fall apart for all the things he’s yet to learn. He doesn’t tell Link so. Instead, he closes his eyes and wills every last doubt to go away. _He wants for nothing_ , Rhett tells himself. _He wants only you_. The stern reminder slows Rhett’s heart. And then, calm, he gives himself to Link like a man drowning, giving himself over to a stormy sea. 

 

A few days after New Year’s Eve, Link giggles as he speaks at Rhett’s side. “You really used to have your ears pierced?”

“Yeah!” Rhett says. “I thought it looked cool! I still have the holes, I think. Maybe I’ll start wearing earrings again.”

“No! No, I like the way you look now.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t like me if I changed my appearance?!”

“No! No, Rhett! All I am saying is I like you best the way you are now. You can change whatever you like! I didn’t mean…”

“I’m teasing you, Link,” Rhett says, closing the photo album in his hands.

Link found the album in his exploration of the basement while Rhett was at work, waiting patiently for Rhett to give him permission to look. Once Link started laughing like a loon over old pictures of Rhett, he decided to cut in and take the album to skip by pictures that did him no favors. Now, Rhett and Link sit shoulder to shoulder on the loveseat, Rhett still in his stiff work clothes, and Link reaches for the album as Rhett closes it. 

“I will not laugh anymore,” Link says. “Can I keep looking, please? You have changed so much over the years and I don’t change at all. I want to see you grow older. Do you have any more of these? Pictures from after college?”

“Nope,” Rhett lies. “That’s it.” He slides the album away from Link and lets it fall off the loveseat and onto the floor. He leans back, reaches for the top button of his shirt, and sighs in relief as he pops it open. “Want to help me make dinner?” 

Thankfully, for the moment, Link says nothing about Rhett’s lie. All he does is nod, scoop the photo album off the floor, and drop it back onto the loveseat as he follows Rhett to the kitchen. Rhett makes a mental note to hide the album before Link can get to the end. 

“You know, you look a lot better with a beard than without it,” Link says, perched on the counter while Rhett chops peppers. “Although the beard does tickle a lot.” He smiles, squeezing Rhett’s forearm as he pauses in his cutting. 

“Yeah,” Rhett replies. He shrugs, looking at his cutting board instead of Link. “I like it better grown out, too. But you’re right. It does tickle.” He tries to offer Link a smile, but something holds him back. There’s a box of photo albums hidden in the basement and Rhett wants to get to them before Link can. There’s simply too much Rhett isn’t ready to share. He doubts he ever will be, but maybe Link’s earnest blue eyes will bring old memories to the surface. 

“Rhett!” Link cries a moment before Rhett’s knife slips. Rhett slices the pad of his index finger, pulling back and hissing in pain as blood dots the counter. “Oh, Rhett, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Rhett grunts. He sticks his finger in his mouth, wincing at the pain, and Link reaches for his arm and tells him not to do that. “’M fine,” Rhett says. “Cut it out.” He waves off Link’s concern, shaking the robot off his arm, and before Link can try to baby him, Rhett turns away. He washes blood off his hand in the sink, icy water guiding scarlet blood down the drain. All at once, Rhett feels like slamming something, like breaking something, like breaking down and crying. It comes on fast and Rhett sighs before he can stop himself, his shoulders sagging as he lets the cold water run over his hand. 

“Rhett, what’s the matter?” Link asks from behind him. “Is there something I can do to help you?”

“No,” Rhett snaps. 

“Do you need a bandage? I can get you one.”

“No, Link.”

“Do you want me to get you some ice?”

“No, Link!”

“Rhett, at least let me…”

“Link!” Rhett whirls on his little robot, Link clapping both hands over his mouth in surprise. “I’m fine,” Rhett says. “You don’t need to take care of me. You don’t need to protect me. Okay? I’m _fine_.” 

It takes Link a moment to lower his hands, speaking through his fingers. “Okay, Rhett,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He clasps his hands in his lap, bowing his head so his glasses slip down to rest at the tip of his nose. Rhett grabs a paper towel and wraps it around his finger, swearing as it stings. He should be the one apologizing. It’s just been a long time since he has thought about the life he used to live. That’s all. It scares the hell out of Rhett, his little robot finding all the things Rhett has spent so long trying to hide. Rhett thinks for a moment of burning his photo albums and burying the ashes, shaking his head to shake away the ridiculous notion. 

He needs those pictures like he needs air. 

Rhett wipes away the last dot of blood from his hand and tosses aside the paper towel stained in red. Link keeps his head down, kicking at the bottom of the island. 

“Link,” Rhett says. At the sound of his name, Link looks up. “My finger really hurts.”

“Is that why you snapped at me?” 

“Yes. No. Yes.” Rhett pauses. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I just…” Rhett fails to come up with an explanation of all the things that weigh him down. “You know what? Never mind. Just...” When Rhett takes a step forward, Link spreads his knees to let Rhett fall into his arms. “Hold me.”

“Okay,” Link says. He wraps his arms around Rhett, cupping his shoulder blades in strong hands, lowering his chin to Rhett’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re not okay,” he says. 

“I told you I was,” Rhett replies.

“You forget I can see a lot more than you can.” 

“Are you saying I’m lying, then?”

“Yes. But that’s okay. I understand, I think, that everyone lies sometimes. To protect the feelings of someone they love. Is that what you’re doing now, Rhett? Keeping things to yourself because you don’t want me to feel sad?”

_Lie_ , Rhett tells himself. But what comes out is the truth. “Yes,” he says. 

“That’s okay,” Link replies. “But when you want to tell me the truth, I will be here to listen. Because I want every part of you, Rhett. Even the parts you think you ought to hide.” 

Rhett clings to his little robot and the only thing that makes him pull away is the slick feeling of fresh blood on his hand. He makes sure Link is looking at his cut before using his free hand to wipe at his eyes. There are too many parts he wants to hide, too many to count. And Link wants to see all of them? He has no idea what he asks of Rhett as he fusses over the knife cut, ordering Rhett to hold his hand above his heart to slow the bleeding. Link hops off the counter to get a bandage from the bathroom and once he is alone, Rhett coughs to yank back the hot lump in his throat. 

Sooner or later, Link is going to learn all there is to know about him. And what will his little robot do then? Every person who has seen all of Rhett has left him. Without a choice, without anywhere else to go, what will happen to Link when he decides he doesn’t like what he sees in Rhett? 

It takes far more willpower than it should for Rhett to appear calm when Link returns, a tube of antibacterial ointment in one hand and a Band-Aid in the other. Clumsy and not so nimble, Link hisses a mild oath to himself as he sticks the bandage to itself and has to get another. “Oh, darn,” he sighs when he does it a second time. Rhett catches him by the forearm when he tries to walk away. 

“It’s okay, Link,” Rhett says. “I’ll do it.” 

“I don’t like it when I cannot help you, Rhett,” Link replies, eyes open wide. Every inch of his face radiates pain like he truly feels it, like he is capable of feeling something as terrible as pain. _Fix it_ , Rhett tells himself. He tries. 

“Link, I’m sorry,” Rhett says, Link’s chin tilting up as he looks into Rhett’s face. “Whaddya say we get the carnage cleaned up and you help me finish dinner? That’s how you can help me. Okay?” 

Link teeters for a moment on the verge of fighting back. Rhett sees it in his blue, blue eyes. But in the end, they narrow, Link looking down at the floor, and he nods. For now, he is not going to try to get anything more out of Rhett. “Okay,” Link agrees. 

After that, the night passes quickly. Link scrubs blood from the tile floor, on his hands and knees as he cleans. Rhett bandages his own finger and steps over Link to finish cooking, shoving the bloodied knife into the sink and out of sight. Rhett and Link sit down at the kitchen table, side by side instead of across from one another. They bump knees as Rhett eats, Link looking up into Rhett’s face from time to time as if he expects something new to bloom there. Rhett ignores the looks but answers every question Link slings his way. 

“What does it feel like to feel full?” he asks when Rhett leans back in his chair, one hand on his belly. 

“Like I could explode,” Rhett replies. He is just as desperate as Link to pull lightheartedness back into the house, back into their hushed conversation. Sitting with their heads close together, they speak quietly so no invisible monsters hiding in the house can hear. Rhett is wary of shadows, of the things that could be listening in, and Link is oblivious. Of course there is nothing, no one, but Rhett looks up every time Link pauses, in search of a stranger, or at least a ghost of one. The silly thoughts won’t leave him and he tries to cover them up with something far sillier. “Go on, touch me,” Rhett says. “Like the Pillsbury Doughboy. I might actually explode. Go on, I dare you.” 

“The…the _what_?” 

Rhett spends the next ten minutes hunched over his phone with Link at his side, watching old Pillsbury commercials until the anxious knot fades from Link’s brow. Link laughs, hands crossed over his stomach, trying to get at Rhett’s belly to tickle him. His mind still on the photo album he has not opened in years, Rhett fights through a fog of unhappy memories to laugh along with Link. They giggle and wrestle, taking the fight to the bedroom, Rhett hoisting his little robot out of his seat. He throws the laughing robot over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry, ignoring the faint jabs of pain in his back from the weight of Link. He carries Link to bed and there they stay until morning. The painful memories have faded by the time Rhett wakes up in Link’s arms. 

Sunlight filling the room, Rhett slips out of bed and leaves his robot behind. Link is like a rag doll, having put himself to sleep, and Rhett doesn’t have much time before Link wakes to his alarm. Rhett tiptoes from the room despite the knowledge that he couldn’t wake Link if he tried. He tiptoes down to the basement and he tiptoes to the closet in the corner. Musty, dusty air hits Rhett in the face as he swings open the door. 

The photo albums are just where Rhett left them years ago. 

He lets the first album fall open in his hands, the first picture he sees one that he used to love. He traces his fingertips along the edges of the photo, scared to move, as if any motion would destroy the heavy album in his hands. It doesn’t, the album undamaged as Rhett rises to his feet with it cradled in his arms. Rhett has not looked at these pictures in longer than he can remember. He has never shared them with anyone, not ever. But something in him wants to share them now. It has to be time eventually, doesn’t it? He can’t keep it inside for the rest of his life. 

Can he?

Rhett slips the first photo out of its sleeve, turning it over to check the back. In neat cursive handwriting it reads, _J. 2001. Just look at that frown!!!_ Rhett chuckles, flipping the photo back over to be greeted with the beautiful, perfect, perfectly faux sour face he has not seen since he was young. The subject of the photo is the same person who wrote on the back of it, but the self-deprecation was always a joke, spoken with a laugh. The face in the photo only holds a frown because Rhett was the one who took the picture; the subject loved to frown for him to scold him for always taking pictures. 

He used to be told to live more in the moment. 

He is better at that now. 

Rhett closes the album as a pair of feet hit the floor upstairs, right above his head. He drops the album back into the box where he scooped it up, kicking the cardboard box back into the closet. Link pads across the floor, heading right for the basement, knowing exactly where to find Rhett like he carries a key to Rhett’s mind. Rhett closes the closet door as quietly as he can. By the time Link appears at the top of the stairs with his hair mussed and his glasses perched on the top of his head, Rhett’s racing heart has slowed. 

“Are you okay?” Link asks, and for the hundredth time, Rhett thinks of lying. 

“No,” he replies instead. “No, not really.” 

“Do you…um.” Link tries to ask if he needs help, if Rhett needs him, but nervousness stops him. In whatever capacity Link can feel fear, he feels it now. It’s written all over his face. 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. “Please.” He accepts Link’s unspoken offer and without pause, Link makes his way down the stairs. He is beautiful with his hair a mess and his pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He is beautiful, a timid smile on his lips. 

“What do you want me to do?” Link asks. He reaches for Rhett, takes hold of him by the hips, and pulls him close. Their bodies don’t quite touch as Link explores Rhett’s face in search of an answer. 

Rhett gives it to him. 

“I want you to listen to me for a while,” Rhett says. The box he hid away burns a hole in the corner of his mind, the corner he has not peeked into in years. The corner is as dusty as the cardboard box, covered in cobwebs and dusty old memories. “I’m gonna tell you a little bit about myself.” 

Link looks for a sign of hesitance, of Rhett being anything but sure. When his search brings up nothing, the little robot nods. “Okay, Rhett,” he says. “I will listen as long as you want me to.” He follows Rhett as he turns around, back to the closet, back to the box. This is Rhett’s last chance to burn the albums, to burn the pictures, to turn this version of him to ash and smoke. But Link is here and Rhett has to talk about it sometime, doesn’t he? Fifteen years of bottling every bad memory has done Rhett nothing but harm. What’s the worst that can come from letting it all out?

Link follows Rhett to the living room, a heavy box in Rhett’s arms. He sits at Rhett’s side on the loveseat, the two of them knee to knee. Rhett places the box on the floor and picks the loose photo from where he dropped it amid the albums. Without giving himself a chance to back away, to change his mind, Rhett passes the photo into Link’s waiting hands. 

“I want to share something with you,” Rhett says. “Because when I do, I think you might understand just a little bit better why I’m the way I am.” 

“Okay,” Link replies. His eyes rove over the photo, over the frowning face, over every inch of the glossy picture. He flips it over and reads the back, mouthing along with the words written there. When he flips it back to the front, Rhett stills him with one hand on Link’s jiggling knee. 

“I want you to know me front to back,” Rhett says. No one has ever known him that deeply, not even fifteen years ago when he was so much younger. “As well as I know you, that’s how well I want you to know me.” And maybe he doesn’t know that much about Link; maybe there is still a hell of a lot to learn. But here, he is going to try.

“Okay,” Link whispers, awe quieting him.

“I was a person for a long time before I met you, Link,” Rhett says. “Believe me or don’t, but I used to be real. And I want to tell you all about who I was. Do you want to hear it?”

“Yes,” Link says. “More than anything.” 

“Okay,” Rhett replies. He closes his eyes against the face in the photo only to open them before Link’s eyes, his little robot dazzling in his openness. 

Rhett has a long way to go before he can be half as open. But here, he is going to try. 

He picks up the album on top of the stack, lets it fall open to the first page, and with Link at his side, he begins to speak.


	5. Open Book

“She was my wife, Link,” Rhett says. “She was my wife. Isn’t she the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?”

“Yes. She is.” Link cradles Rhett’s photo album in his lap, running his fingers along the pictures like he wishes he could step into them. Rhett feels the same. 

It’s been a long time since Rhett has brought out the albums, that’s all. Looking at his wedding photos is a lot more overwhelming than he expected it to be. He was young, too young to be married, but married just the same. He was clean shaven, lean, no hunch to his shoulders brought on by age. And his wife…she still looks just as beautiful as she was when Rhett filed her photos away. 

“She died,” Link says. The loose picture Rhett picked from the album sits beside Link on the loveseat. As Rhett watches, Link picks it up. “Didn’t she?” 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. “She did.” 

“When?” 

“Not too long after this was taken,” Rhett says. He taps at the photo in Link’s hands, the one with his wife’s neat handwriting on the back, and the corners of Link’s mouth turn down. 

“What happened?” Link asks. 

To give himself time, Rhett opens his hand, reaching for the photo Link holds. Link passes it to him. Once it’s back in his hands, Rhett feels no better for it. “It was a car accident,” Rhett says. “It wasn’t her fault, but…” He shrugs, eyes on the photo smudged by his fingertips. “But she was the one who didn’t walk away from it.” 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link whispers. “Rhett, I…”

“I was a widower at twenty three,” Rhett says. “I lost everything. And…well, I guess I never really picked myself up after that.” 

“Oh, _Rhett_ , you…” 

“I loved her more than I ever thought I could love somebody else,” Rhett says. “Hell, I guess I still do. Some things just never go away, I guess. But there you have it. That’s why I’m alone. That’s why, for years, I have been alone, giving up on every relationship I found myself in. And that’s why I needed you. It’s been…it’s been almost fifteen years, Link, and I haven’t gotten better. I gave up trying a long time ago.”

“It’s okay, Rhett,” Link says. His knee bumps Rhett’s and the simple touch reminds Rhett he’s alive. Rhett puts the photo down and picks up both of Link’s hands, drawing them into his lap. In return, Link squeezes his fingers until Rhett’s fingertips begin to buzz. 

“I dreamed of raising a family with her,” Rhett breathes, eyes on the fingers laced with his. “And to have that taken from me…” 

“Rhett.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Thank you for showing me more of you. But Rhett, if it hurts you to remember…just knowing what I know so far is enough for now. You can stop if you need to stop.”

“No,” Rhett replies. “I haven’t even said her name in more than ten years. I think it’s about time I do a little remembering, even if it hurts.” 

Link pauses. He rubs a circle carefully into the back of Rhett’s hand with one finger, as if Rhett is prone to shattering. “What was her name?” Link asks. 

“Jessie,” Rhett replies. The moment he says the name, he feels it in his chest, a hot spike shoved into his heart. He hasn’t thought the name in years; he has not even tried to conjure up her face in longer than he can remember. Even so, it hurts immensely just to say her name. Rhett closes his eyes against the onslaught of memories, tethered to the present only by Link’s cool, dry hands. Rhett’s hands are clammy and damp in Link’s, but Link doesn’t complain. All he does is look at their clasped hands and keep rubbing the same careful circle into the space between Rhett’s thumb and bandaged forefinger. 

“She is absolutely beautiful, Rhett,” Link says. 

“Was,” Rhett replies. “You can say _was_. She’s not anymore.”

“Oh, Rhett, but…”

“It took me a long, long time to make peace with it. But I have now, I think. I made peace with God, or…or with whoever it was that decided my lot in life. At least…I thought I made peace with it.”

“But?” Link asks. 

“No _but_ ,” Rhett replies. “Just…until.”

“Until?”

“Yeah. Until I got to have you.”

“Ah.”

“Then I remembered I was allowed to be happy. And now, I’m mad. I’m _furious_. Because I spent so many years alone, thinking I was doing right by my wife by being alone for the rest of my life. What kind of life is that? That’s not what she would have wanted for me. But that’s what I chose. And once I chose it, that’s what I was stuck with- loneliness. Trying to start something and…and changing my mind every time. And now…now I know I didn’t have to go through all that. I could have chosen happiness from the beginning. And I can’t get those years back, Link, not ever. All I have now are parents who worry too much about me, a brother who wants to fix me, and…”

“Me.”

“Yeah,” Rhett husks. “And you. And I feel this…this guilt, Link, guilt that never goes away. Like I’m not really supposed to have this. Because you’re not real and neither am I. Who the hell am I to be this happy? Is any of this making sense to you?”

Link stops moving, hands ceasing in their soothing. “No,” he says. “I know you want me to understand, but I don’t have the same capacity for feeling that you do, Rhett. I’m so sorry.” And he sounds it, too, desperation tinting his voice a darker color than usual. It hurts Rhett’s heart, the sorrow Link injects into every word. Like Link’s mechanical heart is breaking for not being able to break. Rhett wants it to be enough, the sadness keeping Link frozen still. But it’s not. 

As much as it seems, it isn’t real. The simplicity of unreality scares Rhett into the same stillness as his little robot. In perfect tandem, perfect silence, Rhett and his robot freeze. Rhett’s heart, the only part of him in motion, does a painful dance in his chest. It aches, his heart does, and he can’t make it stop. He feels delirious with happiness, fulfilled to the point of overflowing, but what good is happiness if it’s manufactured and make-believe? The relationship Rhett has with his little robot is nothing like what he used to have. It’s nothing like a marriage, like a partnership. It’s Link being made to keep Rhett happy. It’s Link without a choice, a robot built to have just enough free will to make it look like he has more. 

Teardrops start to patter on Link’s hands and Rhett is startled to find himself crying. Link says Rhett’s name and Rhett closes his eyes, Link just as surprised by the onslaught of tears. Rhett’s shoulders hitch and the moment of stillness is broken. Link moves fluidly, simply, and before Rhett draws in his next breath, the little robot is cradled in his lap. Link’s hands are on his face, swiping away tears as they fall. Rhett keeps his eyes shut. It’s easier not to look. Link coos and Rhett hardly listens, all his focus on the pain in his chest. If he can diminish it enough to breathe, he will be fine. But like this, Rhett struggles. He didn’t expect this, not after all this time, but now the dam is broken and there is no fixing it. 

Still, Link tries. 

“Honey,” Link coos as his fingers follow tears. “Honey, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could understand everything you say to me…oh, I wish I could cry.”

The simple wish has Rhett barking a sob and wrapping his arms tight around Link’s middle. Rhett buries his face in the crook of Link’s neck as Link cards both hands through his hair, voice soft as he soothes. 

“I would cry with you if I could, Rhett,” Link says. “I promise you, I would. There is nothing I want more than to feel what you feel…” 

“You don’t wanna feel this,” Rhett replies. His voice comes out as thick as molasses and just as heavy. He sounds sick, tears tightening his throat. He sounds wasted. 

“I do,” Link says. “Because I want to understand. I want to be able to help you. How can I help if I don’t know what you are going through?” 

“I don’t want help, Link,” Rhett says. “I just wanted you to know. And now you do.” Rhett tightens his hold on his little robot, Link squirming in his lap. “Please, be happy with that.” 

At the whispered request, Link stills. Rhett mimics the ceasing of motion, his face pressed into Link’s throat. Tears dampen Link’s skin as Rhett freezes with him. They sit, tangled up together on the loveseat, Link’s hands curled into Rhett’s hair. He pulls too hard but Rhett cherishes the pain. It means he’s still alive. Sinking into Link doesn’t mean sinking into nothingness. Despite what it looks like from the outside, Rhett is not done living yet. 

“I’m sorry,” Link says. 

“Me too,” Rhett replies. He’s sorry for relying on Link and he’s sorry for keeping things from him. He’s sorry for needing Link and he’s sorry for all the parts of him that yearn for more. Rhett sniffles into the crook of Link’s neck, arms tightening around Link’s middle. _Pull yourself together_. It’s a harder task than it should be for Rhett to drag himself back from the edge. There are things he hasn’t let cross his mind in years, faces he hasn’t conjured up. It’s harder than it has any right to be to remember his wife is no more real than Link. Not anymore. “I love you,” Rhett breathes. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“You don’t have to say it right now, Rhett,” Link replies. “I know you feel it. Hush, now.” 

As always, when Link asks for silence, Rhett gives it to him. The little robot does not ask for much, and the request is an easy one to acquiesce. Link takes control from Rhett as easily as he takes Rhett’s voice. He rises gracefully from Rhett’s lap and offers Rhett one hand. When Rhett takes it, Link smiles, all his teeth showing, filled to the brim with happiness. 

“Hush,” Link says. Rhett opens his mouth to say he wasn’t going to speak, but Link’s free hand comes up to press gently against Rhett’s lips. Link looks at him with such sympathy it stirs up something in Rhett’s chest, something thick and unpleasant and hard to ignore. The manufactured sympathy does more harm than good and Rhett feels an awful lot like throwing up. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on Link as the little robot lifts his hand from Rhett’s lips. Link brushes back Rhett’s hair and presses at Rhett’s temple with gentle fingertips. “Shh,” Link says. “In here. I can almost _hear_ it. Let go.” 

Silencing the riotous parts of Rhett’s brain is easier said than done. The parts that cry out in pain are not easily quieted, but Rhett tries. For Link, he tries. 

“Good,” Link says, blue eyes wide. “Now, come with me.” 

Rhett follows Link down the hall, down to Rhett’s bedroom. Rhett goes willingly to the bed as Link guides him down, turning his back to close the bedroom door. Link locks it, locking Rhett inside, and as Rhett watches with burning eyes, Link begins to move. He pulls his T-shirt over his head, yanking his glasses off with it. Both things thump to the carpet and Rhett follows them with his eyes. 

“Don’t focus on things that are falling down,” Link says, like he knows anything about falling. “Focus on me.” 

And for him, Rhett tries. 

He watches Link unbutton his jeans and let them sink to his knees. Rhett watches Link almost fall on his ass as he tries to get the tight cuffs of his pants off his ankles, using the wall for support. Rhett smiles as Link rights himself, dazzling and pretty in his underwear. Link has Rhett’s attention, all of it, Rhett’s stomach giving a lurch at the sight of Link’s body. 

“You’re something amazing, Rhett,” Link says. “And I love you. As much as…”

“I love you, too.” Rhett cuts him off, hungry for touch, desperate for it. When Link pauses, an impish smile blooming on his face, Rhett reaches out for him. Laughing, Link takes a step back. 

“Look at me,” Link says. 

“I _am_ ,” Rhett replies. Rhett lets his hands drop back into his lap, Link’s hands sliding down his own body, tracing delicate lines. 

“Don’t think,” Link says. 

“I’m not.” And with Link dancing on the spot, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his underwear, it becomes truer by the second. Rhett forgets the reason behind the tears drying on his cheeks. He forgets why Link pulled him here by the hand, hushing him with every step. What does it matter? Link is beautiful and the past is something else entirely. There is nothing as good to remember as the prettiest parts of Link as he undresses, his underwear hitting the floor. Rhett memorizes the steps of Link’s dance, the little robot swaying his hips as he gets closer to Rhett. “You’re so…” Rhett breathes. 

“You’re perfect,” Link cuts in. They both have a habit of interrupting, it seems, but Rhett hardly minds. Each word from Link’s rosy lips is a weight lifted from Rhett’s shoulders. He remembers now a lot of things he wants to forget, but Link helps him leave every last thing behind. “You’re perfect and I love you.”

“I…” Rhett begins. But Link slides into his lap, naked and lithe and lovely, burying both hands in Rhett’s hair. Fully clothed and breathing through a runny nose, Rhett wraps his arms around Link and holds him close. 

“I’m sorry I can’t give you everything you had,” Link says. Without his glasses, he looks smaller, the blocky frames lending him some size. Without them, he looks younger, more open, wider eyed. It’s impossible, the openness of his eyes, but if Rhett can be an open book, so can Link. Rhett lets him speak. “I know I can never be as good as the life you used to have. But I would like to ask you to let me try. I can’t give you…I cannot give you a family, or a marriage, or the things you dreamed of having. But I can give you this…” He trails off, pressing a tender kiss to Rhett’s cheek that says more than his words can. “And I can give you love. All of the love in me, all of it. That’s yours. I can give you this…” Link works his hand between Rhett and himself, squeezing Rhett gently through his jeans. “And I can give you a promise.”

“A promise?” Rhett breathes. Link’s hand on him has Rhett scattered, lost in the feeling, but Link lifts it and the fog clears. 

“I promise to learn,” Link says. “To use my time to get better. To learn everything about feelings, and about love, and about humanity. I’m going to devote myself to understanding, to…to being as real as I can. I promise to give you everything that I can, for the rest of your life, to make you feel like you are real, too.” Link has his hands on Rhett’s face, fingers buried in his beard. “Okay?” Those fingers tighten as Rhett pauses, overwhelmed and unable to find his tongue. 

Rhett nods. “Okay,” he mouths. He wants to tell Link that the way he is now is enough. The way he loves now is enough. But no matter how much Rhett tries to deny it, to bite it back, to keep it down, they both know something is missing. Link offers to make the space between unreality and feeling real smaller. And Rhett accepts. 

“Let me say it one more time, then,” Link says, pressing his nose to Rhett’s. “That as much as I can, as deeply as my mind will allow, I love you. And I promise to keep loving you as long as you will have me.” 

The last time someone promised _always_ to Rhett, he ended up alone. This time, it’s harder to accept the love pressed into his hands. Still, again, Rhett nods. “Okay,” he breathes, his voice a broken whisper. “Okay, Link,” he says. “I promise, too.” 

“I will have you for always,” Link laughs brightly, almost alive. 

Rhett pauses, his hands on the small of Link’s back, sliding across smooth skin. “Okay,” Rhett replies. “And I, you.” 

At that, the moment is broken, the bubble in which they reside popping to spill them back into the bedroom. Link kisses Rhett hard on the mouth, heat and passion in the motion of his body. Rhett kisses him back and tries to give the same. 

Link leads the way and Rhett lets him. Link pulls Rhett’s shirt over his head, gracefulness leaving him as he struggles to toss it aside. When their mouths collide again, teeth on teeth, Rhett whines. All at once, the clothing between himself and Link feels too thick, too much, too hot. Rhett gets out of his clothes as quickly as he can, Link sliding off his lap and lolling in bed as he waits. He’s more patient than Rhett, looking up at him with a coy smile on his lips, in no hurry. For his part, Rhett feels he could run out of time at any moment. The price he pays for being human is always running out of time. It leaves in seconds and minutes, hours and days, and it feels like years before Rhett is naked and crawling into bed with Link. 

“Hello,” Link says, looking up at Rhett from the mattress. 

“Hi,” Rhett replies. 

“I’m going to take care of you,” Link says. “It’s what I was made to do.”

Rhett thinks of fighting him, of begging him not to keep reminding Rhett of how unreal this is. But in the end, he sighs. He nods. And he kisses Link. 

The two of them sink into bed, Rhett draping his full weight on Link, Link reveling in the kisses Rhett trails across his sharp jawline. 

“Oh, Rhett, you’re so good,” Link says, all the same sweet nothings he whispered the first time. “You’re so good, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart,” Rhett echoes, lips on Link’s throat. “My sweetheart.”

“Yours,” Link agrees, and where his throat should vibrate from the words slipping out of his mouth, he is still. Even so, Rhett loves him. Link guides Rhett with careful hands as Rhett presses kisses to each of Link’s collarbones. His hands in Rhett’s hair, Link holds on tight. And Rhett explores. He hunts down places to kiss that will make Link squirm, dropping kisses across Link’s chest. Link behaves like a man just learning he is alive, writhing beneath Rhett, bucking his hips to keep their bodies slotted neatly together. 

“What does it feel like when I kiss you here?” Rhett breathes, caressing Link’s nipple with his tongue. Unlike in other parts of Link’s body, here there is no reaction to the touch. There is no trail of goosebumps, no hardening of soft pink skin. But Link moves like he has never felt anything so good, his lips parted as he tosses his head back against Rhett’s pillows. 

“So good,” Link replies. “Oh, Rhett, it feels so good.” 

“Mhm,” Rhett breathes. He works his way down, chasing each kiss with a gentle touch of his tongue, swirling it across cool skin. “And here?” 

Link writhes beautifully as Rhett kisses him just above his navel. “Wonderful.” 

“Hmm…” Everything else forgotten, face still tacky from dried tears, Rhett tries his best to make the reminders go away. He should wash his face, wipe salt from his skin, and bury the photo albums in a grave in the backyard. But instead, he is going to keep kissing Link. He is going to keep loving him dearly, loving him in the hopes that love will make all the pain slide away. Hope is the only thing he has. “Here?” Rhett asks, and without giving himself time to pause, he presses a not so gentle kiss to the tip of Link’s rapidly rising erection. At the sensation, Link all but howls, a strange and strangely perfect noise of pleasure escaping him. 

“Oh, no,” Link squeaks, fisting the sheets close to Rhett’s face. “Oh, Rhett…” Words escape him as Rhett dips his head to lick a stripe from the base to the tip of Link’s perfect, perfectly human manhood. “Oh, gosh.” 

Every word that slips from Link is another nail in the coffin of Rhett’s memories, each word burying fuzzy memories and locking them away. So be it. Good. There is nothing Rhett wants to remember. Not his wife and not the life that was taken from him. Not every shitty, lousy relationship he had between then and now, and not the life he had before Link. All of it is in the past and none of it is going to chase Rhett anymore. Not right now, at least, not right now as Rhett releases Link to the cacophonous sound of cries of protest. 

“No, Rhett, please…” Link keens. He grasps at Rhett’s hair, hands tight, hips rolling. “I love you. Please touch me. Please.” 

“Where?” Rhett replies. He lowers himself between Link’s thighs, wraps his arms around the undersides, and rests his chin in the space just below one hip. Link looks down at him, eyes almost feverish in the way they gleam. 

“Everywhere,” Link replies. 

Rhett complies. He bites at Link’s thighs and he sucks at Link’s skin, pulling away to see no marks. There should be bruises, Link’s skin painted in yellow and purple, but Rhett will take what he is given and he will try not to ask for more. Link loves him. Someone loves him, _him_ of all people, and that has to be enough. For now, it is. 

Link mewls as Rhett wraps one hand around him, tentative at first and then not tentative at all. “Oh, Rhett,” Link cries. “Rhett, Rhett, I love you.”

“I know you do,” Rhett replies. 

“If this feels…this good for me…” Link says, eyes closing as Rhett strokes him. “It must be unbearably good…for you.” 

“Yes,” Rhett agrees. He doesn’t say what’s on his mind. He doesn’t add the truth. _Every moment I spend with you is unbearably good_. There is never a good time for such admissions, not in Rhett’s mind, and he keeps quiet as he works Link with his hand. Link cries his name over and over, knees falling open wide, giving Rhett all the room he needs. His chest on the mattress and his free hand anchored on Link’s thigh, Rhett gives Link all he can. Link crosses his ankles at the small of Rhett’s back to hold him close and through the pain that bolts up his spine, Rhett feels like laughing. He loves Link, desperately so, and with all the love in his heart, he has no idea what to do. It has to come out somehow; he has to do something to empty it out before he erupts. 

With nothing but stilted words and an unsure tongue, Rhett gives what he is able. He leaves wet, heated kisses on every inch of Link’s skin that he can reach, Link responding like a man stranded in the desert to an oasis. “I love you,” Link says. Without speaking, Rhett says it back. He kisses each of Link’s hips and lets his lips linger, warming Link’s skin. “It was so…so wonderful when you…when you came inside me, Rhett,” Link says. “I wish…so much…that I could do the same for you.” 

At the thought of being filled by Link, Rhett fights a wave of dizziness that has him gasping for air. He pulls back, Link dropping his legs back to the mattress, knees splayed open wide. Link looks up at Rhett, mouth spilling open prettily, his lips rosy as they turn down. 

“What’s wrong?” Link asks. 

Rhett doesn’t let himself pause. “Can you…I know you can’t…I know you can’t finish, but…” 

Link spares him, frown easing as he interrupts Rhett’s stammering. “Do you want me to make love to you, Rhett?” he asks. His raven hair fanned out on Rhett’s pillows and his skin pale under Rhett’s hands, it’s hard to fathom Link belongs to Rhett. But he offers himself up, offering Rhett a lifeline, and Rhett nods. 

“Yes,” Rhett breathes. “God, yes.” More than anything, more than he ever thought he would, Rhett wants it. He wants to be filled, he wants to be loved. He wants to be Link’s as much as Link is his. That’s not too much to ask, is it? 

Link’s gracefulness is back as he gently rolls Rhett over, hovering over Rhett on his hands and knees. Again he says, “Hello,” and Rhett replies with what little air he manages to take in. 

“Hi,” he gasps. Link takes his breath away, simple as that, and he struggles to regain some pattern of normal breathing as stars start to dance across his vision. _One, two, three, inhale_ , he orders himself. It’s easy. But with Link looking down at him, his hair in his face and his teeth showing as he beams, it’s not easy at all. 

“Can I please make love to you like this?” Link asks, wrapping his hands around Rhett’s ankles and holding them loosely. “So I can see your face?” 

“Yes,” Rhett says. _Anything for you. Anything to see your face, too_. “Please.” Blessedly, Rhett keeps a bottle of lube in his bedside table, a necessity after countless nights spent pleasuring himself alone. He fumbles for the bottle and presses it clumsily into Link’s waiting hands, the little robot turning the bottle over and over with steady fingers. “Please,” Rhett says again, impatient and unwilling to wait anymore. He wants his mind to go blank. He wants to think of nothing but Link and his sinfully beautiful body, his skillful fingers, his loving hands. As Link pops the bottle open and squeezes lube into one palm, Rhett gets his wish. Everything but Link and the fullness of his lips as they hang open leaves Rhett’s mind. Everything except Link’s beauty gets left behind. This is how Rhett wants it. For now, lost is exactly what Rhett wants to be. 

He loses himself in Link casting the bottle aside and in the way Link fumbles, unsure, as he coats himself in lube. “Just like that,” Rhett breathes, taking hold of Link by his hips. It’s been years since he has been taken this way, years and years between the last man who spent time in Rhett’s bed and the one who sits with him now. It’s okay. Rhett is okay. He is sure of it, sure as he can be, as Link waits with his fingers deliciously close to Rhett’s hole. “Do you…do you know what to do?” Rhett asks, lightheaded as Link sits in wait, Rhett’s legs spread open wide. 

“I believe so,” Link replies, still on his knees in between Rhett’s, one hand pressing without urgency between Rhett’s cheeks. 

“Go on, then,” Rhett says. “Please.” 

And Link does. He works one finger inside, Rhett tensing at the sensation only for a moment. He relaxes into the touch, into the feeling of Link sliding a second finger in beside the first. Link is slow, gentle, almost timid as he moves his fingers in search of a rhythm. Rhett keeps his eyes open wide, trained on Link’s face, his hands tight on the little robot’s hips. He draws Link closer, Link scooting forward on his knees, crooking his fingers until Rhett ceases all motion. 

“Ah,” Rhett sighs, losing his grip on Link as pleasure flashes down his spine. “That’s it. That’s it, Link.” At the encouragement, Link beams. 

“Do you want me to…?”

“Fuck me, Link,” Rhett breathes, leaving all of Link’s tender words behind. There’s nothing tender about the desire that begs to erupt from within him. There is time for making love and there is time for other things. Right now, all Rhett wants is to be fucked, to be taken until he can’t remember his name. “Fuck me, please.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Link replies, the curse sounding all wrong in his mouth. But Rhett thrills at the sound, a shiver rolling through him, and all at once the fingers inside of him are gone. Link moves closer, positioning himself, hands just as steady as Rhett’s are shaky. “Are you…?”

“’M ready,” Rhett slurs, lifting his hips, wrapping his legs around Link and pulling him closer still. “Please.” The plea comes out brokenly and Link trails one hand down Rhett’s chest as Rhett struggles to breathe. Sensing it, always sure what Rhett feels before he feels it himself, Link tells him to be calm. 

“I love you,” Link says. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I need you to tell me when to stop, though, as I can’t come and I don’t want you to feel like you have to…”

Rhett takes a turn telling Link to hush. “Shh,” he says. “I’m ready. I want this. Go on, then. I’m yours.” 

The feeling of Link sliding deep inside Rhett is like nothing he expected. Link is slow and careful, one hand on Rhett’s stomach and the other guiding himself in, his brow furrowed in concentration. It stings at first, the feeling unfamiliar after years of inexperience, but as Link sighs Rhett’s name, all traces of pain fade away. 

“Oh, Rhett, you feel so good,” Link says. Rhett finds his eyes slipping closed in pleasure as Link sinks all the way in and he forces them open, intent on seeing this through. Intent on seeing Link and the pleasure evident on his face, lips parted and eyes half-lidded. “Is it good for you?” Link asks. 

“I’ll know in a minute,” Rhett replies, surprised by the near taunt as it passes his lips. “Go on,” he urges. “I want you. Take me away.” 

Slowly, achingly so, Link begins to move. He rolls his hips and Rhett echoes the motion, meeting him in the middle. Link’s hands land on the backs of Rhett’s thighs, tugging him impossibly closer, getting the right angle to make Rhett see stars. It’s a slow build, the burn in Rhett’s guts, but before he is ready, he feels dangerously close to coming undone. Link moves faster than Rhett’s hammering heart, finding his rhythm and keeping it, a practiced motion. Rhett cries out, first babbling and then finding Link’s name in the nonsense that spills from him. Link’s name is all he wants to remember. Link inside of him is the only thing he ever wants to feel again. 

_You’ve sunk_ , he tells himself. _You’re past sinking. You’re gone for him. There’s no coming back. Not from this_. Rhett shoves the unpleasant thoughts away, chasing them with Link’s name. 

“Link,” he gasps, his chest on fire, sweat pooling between his collarbones. “Link, Link.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Link replies, far steadier than Rhett. “You’re _beautiful_.” 

Despite knowing otherwise, despite the ugly parts of him Link has yet to see, Rhett takes the reverent praise and stows it away. He’ll need it later, when he’s run ragged by all the things one night of fucking can’t ease from his bones. For now, it’s gone. All of it is gone. 

Link surges forward to capture Rhett’s lips in a kiss, tireless as Rhett begins to wane, hardly keeping his climax at bay. It’s too good to last, but he tries to cling to it anyway, not looking forward to the end. In the end, he will have to face the things he tries to leave behind him. What will become of him when he has to pick up everything he dropped along with his clothes? 

“You can come,” Link says, tasting desperation on Rhett’s lips as if he is able to taste anything at all. “I’ll still be here when you do.” The promise urges Rhett along, his own leaking cock twitching as Link buries himself deep inside Rhett. “I’ll still be here, baby, I will.” 

“Link,” Rhett sighs, feeling full to bursting. “Oh, Link, I…” Rhett closes his eyes, mouth open and his throat working to produce something close to a prayer. Nothing comes out except for a sigh, a whimper, a groan. Wordless, tensed tight enough to burst, Rhett comes without being touched. He spills across his own chest, Link whispering his name to urge him on, Rhett gasping out loud as the world falls away all around him. (How easy it is, to make everything go away.) And like Link promised, like he swore, as Rhett comes down, Link is still with him. Link is still buried deep inside him as Rhett fights to find himself in the fogginess of his own head. 

“You’re perfect,” Link coos. He knows when to pull away without being told, the emptiness he leaves in his wake as he pulls out a little too much for Rhett to handle. Instead of crying out, instead of begging to be filled again, Rhett does what he always does. He throws one arm over his face and hides. Undeterred, knowing Rhett better than he knows himself, Link lets him be. Link leaves the room, clambering over Rhett as he languishes in bed, unsure of how to find his body. Link returns with a handful of tissues and he cleans Rhett off, humming as he works, Rhett still lying with his arm over his eyes. Only when Link leaves and comes back again, draping his body over Rhett’s and whispering his name, does Rhett move his arm to peek under it. 

“I’m still here,” Link says. 

“I see you,” Rhett replies. 

“I will be here always,” Link says, chin propped on Rhett’s chest, blue eyes prettier than ever in the dim light coming through the bedroom window. 

“And I will be too,” Rhett replies. He can’t promise that, of course he can’t, but Link has given him something he hasn’t had in well over a decade. Link has given him something to live for. Something to lose, something to love, and something to cling onto. Link has given him peace of mind, however brief, however small. Link has given him joy. Rhett can’t promise all of these things to Link. He can’t promise much of anything. But still, he does. He makes a promise and Link accepts it, pressing a kiss to Rhett’s sweat-sticky chest. 

“Good,” Link says. “That’s good.” 

Afterwards, later, when Rhett can’t help but lie awake, the things that haunt him are still there. They beg for his attention, screaming in his ears, but with Link at his side, every scream seems muted. Every cry for Rhett’s eye goes ignored. For now, he can hide. 

He only wishes he could hide forever. 

 

Reality hits Rhett hard when it manages to find him where he hides. He ignores a phone call from his mother and another from Cole, willing them to leave him alone. He is happy where nothing is real, as happy as he can be, and every phone call threatens to disrupt the little home he builds in his little robot. 

He should have expected his brother to stop by, banging at the front door, shouting Rhett’s name. “If you’re dead in there, I’m gonna kick your ass!” Cole threatens through the door. Rhett sits with Link on the loveseat, Buster Keaton's _The General_ playing on the TV. As Cole pounds at the door again, Rhett sighs. 

“You should probably let him know you’re alive,” Link says as Rhett rises from the loveseat, patting Link on one knee as he goes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhett replies. He yanks open the door and his brother forces his way inside, slamming the door behind him. Cole wastes no time in getting in Rhett’s face, jabbing at Rhett’s chest with one finger. 

“You lousy son of a bitch,” Cole says, accentuating each word with another jab of his finger. “Mom is worried absolutely sick and you’re just sitting here watching TV?!” Fury makes him look older, stranger, not like the brother Rhett knows. “What are you _doing_ , Rhett?” 

“Watching TV,” Rhett replies. “You got me. Now, can you please leave?” He tries to get around Cole to open the door, but his brother blocks the way. 

“No,” Cole says, like he wrote a powerful speech and needs to get it out before he loses his nerve. “We have to talk about this. It’s gone on long enough. There’s a line in the sand, Rhett, and you crossed it. You can’t hide in your house alone forever. How do you think this looks from the outside, huh? You look crazy. Absolutely batshit crazy. You look like…”

“Cole, shut the _hell_ up.” 

“You look like you could use some help,” Cole finishes, the fight leaving his voice. As always, he starts off strong, backing Rhett against the wall and then changing his mind. He takes a step back, eying Rhett like he might try to run away. But the anger leaves his face bit by bit, replaced with something a little too close to sympathy for Rhett’s liking. “Do you need help, Rhett?” 

“No,” Rhett replies. “What I need is for you to stay out of my business.” 

“You are my business, Rhett. You’re my brother. I want you to be okay.” 

“I’ve survived the last fifteen years, Cole. Okay? What the hell makes you think I’m gonna start suffering now? Where were you last year, huh? The year before? Living your life, far away from mine. So don’t start now. Do me a big fuckin’ favor and _don’t start now_.” 

Cole looks hard up at Rhett, puzzlement in his eyes, Rhett’s chest tightening with every passing second. Cole is going to hit him and he is going to deserve it. He only wants to help, concern blooming on his face, and Rhett deserves to be hit. He deserves to be screamed at, to be shoved against the wall, to be talked down. But Cole doesn’t do any of that. Instead, his shoulders sag, his head hanging as he looks away. When he speaks, Rhett’s heart skips a beat. 

“I told Ma,” he says. “I told her Link is a robot. I’m sorry. She was just gettin’ crazy, saying she was gonna call the police because you weren’t answering our calls. So I stepped in. I told her. The only reason I’m here right now and she’s not is because I knew she’d go too easy on you. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her, but I didn’t know what else to do. I want to help fix it, Rhett, whatever it is in your head that has you so cooped up inside of it.”

Of all the things that spill out of Cole, Rhett only hears one. “You…you told her?”

“Yeah,” Cole grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn’t leave me much of a choice. I asked you to call her, just _once_ , just to make her feel better. And you didn’t. What the hell do you have to gain by alienating everyone who loves you?” 

As Cole’s temper wanes, Rhett’s flares. “You don’t know me as well as you thought,” Rhett spits, keenly aware of Link a few feet away on the loveseat. Link sits twisted to the side to watch the fight, his eyes following the back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match. He doesn’t say a word. “I’m fine. I’ve always been _fine_.” 

“You have a real funny way of showing it,” Cole says. His eyes land on the photo albums pushed halfway under the sofa, the albums Rhett and Link have been going through for days. As more and more time slips between now and the years pictured in the albums, Rhett begins to feel better. He does. Doesn’t he? 

“Oh, shove off,” Rhett says. “Did you tell everyone I’m sleeping with him, too? Because I am. Congratulations, you were right about one thing. I’m just some loner, some pathetic asshole who can’t get a date to save his life. So I turn to fucking robots in my spare time. Are you happy, Cole? I’m a mess. A goddamn mess, and where have you been this whole time? I’ve always been this way. Only now, I have someone to share it with, the fuckin’ _mess_ I call my life.” 

“You’re…you’re _actually_ …”

“I’m in love with him, all right?” Rhett snaps, heedless, uncaring as Link listens in with his chin propped on the back of the loveseat. “I’m messed up and lonely and I’m in love with a robot. God, Cole, whaddya want me to say? That’s the truth. That’s it. And you need to butt the hell out of my life before you get dragged into the whole mess. You lived your life just fine not caring about mine. Why don’t you try going back to that?”

“Because I love you!” Cole cries. He throws his hands up, the sugary sweetness of the sympathy on his face overpowered by the fury in his voice. “I love you, man, and you have so much more to offer than…than _this_!” He waves one hand towards Link, locking eyes with the little robot for the first time since storming through the door. “He’s a person, you know!” Cole says to Link. “A real person! And what the hell are you? A bunch of wires screwed into a plastic body? Who the hell… _what_ the hell are you to keep my brother held hostage?” His face goes red as he shouts, voice rising, Link’s mouth falling open. And Rhett has had enough. 

“Get out!” he roars, silencing his brother with a voice so loud he sees stars. Rhett gives Cole one good push, Link rising to his feet as if Cole might fight back, anxiety written all over his face. 

“Rhett!” Link cries, but Cole backs away, palms up. 

“You know you can’t stay locked in here forever,” Cole says. “You know that. And you know what else, Rhett? When you finally realize that, you might look up to find yourself alone.”

“Good,” Rhett snaps. “Get out.” 

“Rhett, you don’t mean that.”

“Get out!” He pushes Cole again, his older brother easily moved, his back hitting Rhett’s front door. “Get out!”

“Oh, fuck you, man!” Cole shouts as he whirls on Rhett to wrench open the door. “Have a nice time with your fuckin’ glorified sex toy, Rhett. I’m sure he’s a great replacement for everything you lost.” The anger, the stubbornness, and the rage are not like Cole. But it’s not like Rhett, either. They don’t fight like this, not ever, but they do now. Rhett shoves his brother out the door and Cole stumbles across the porch steps, nearly falling on his ass. 

“Fuck _you_ ,” Rhett snarls, and he slams the door in his brother’s face. He locks it as Cole storms to his truck, slams the car door, and peels out of the driveway. Link is there the moment Rhett turns away from the door, offering an open pair of arms. For a brief moment, Rhett considers falling into them. He thinks better of it. “I need to be alone,” he says, withdrawing from Link. “Please. I need…this has to stop.”

Link drops his arms to his sides, head cocked to the side. “What has to stop, Rhett?”

“All of this,” Rhett says. He drags shaky hands through his hair, closing his eyes to avoid Link’s. “Everything. It all needs to…stop.” 

“I…I don’t understand.”

“No,” Rhett sighs. “No, of course you don’t.” He buries his face in his hands, scared beyond measure, every part of him crying out in pain. There can’t be any fixing him. There can’t be any fixing this. There’s nowhere to go from here, no place where Rhett can be better. 

It was stupid to think he was getting there. 

He felt good in Link’s arms, safe in his body, but it has to stop. It has to go away. Cole is right. Where the hell does Rhett see this ending? There’s no happy ending for him, for Link, for the life they’ve built together. He has to end it now. 

“I’m sorry,” Link says. He looks at his bare feet on the carpet, hands clasped behind his back. He looks so much smaller than he has ever looked before. He looks frail again, nothing like the powerful machine Rhett knows him to be. The image of him as someone small and breakable is one Rhett has not seen in weeks. It makes his stomach hurt to think about it and he gives his head a fruitless shake to clear it. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Rhett says. “Just…leave me alone. Okay? Go to your room or something, please. I need quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” Link says, taking a small step forward. For his one step, Rhett echoes it, backing away. “Please, Rhett, I don’t want to be separated from you.”

“I’m not asking,” Rhett replies. He throws his arms out to keep Link at bay, dropping his hands onto Link’s shoulders. “That’s an order. Leave me _alone_.” 

“Rhett,” Link croaks. His blue eyes are wide, framed by pretty lashes, but it’s the only pretty part of him as his mouth turns down into a frown. All the terrible things the two of them stamped down by falling into bed together come roaring back, all the terrible feelings of loneliness and horror and not meaning much of anything. Unreality and pain paint an ugly picture on Link’s face as it crumples, a crude mimicry of the beginning of tears. 

“Don’t cry,” Rhett snaps, his hands tight on Link’s sharp shoulders. 

“I _can’t_ ,” Link whispers in reply. Even so, anguish tints his voice a deep black, dragging the life out of Rhett. If he doesn’t get away from the black hole that is Link’s despair right now, Rhett is going to die. He is sure of it. “Rhett, I love…”

“Stop,” Rhett barks. “Stop it. You don’t love anything. You _can’t_. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t let you pretend to love me anymore. It’s…it hurts too much. I need…I need to be alone.” 

“Rhett…” 

“Go!” Rhett says, and like he’s been electrocuted, Link nearly jumps out of his skin. He pulls away from Rhett’s hands, backing up, leaving Rhett behind. The pain on his face echoes perfectly the way Rhett feels, but it’s just that: an echo. A copy, a forgery, and Rhett can’t look at it anymore. He turns his back on Link and holds his breath, praying Link will listen to him. And as always, as he was made to do, Link does. He goes to his room, opens the door, and closes it quietly behind him. Rhett keeps his back turned for a long time, one hand over his face, tears splashing through his fingers. 

He let this go too far. Cole was right about that, too. He let himself sink, he let reality fade from his life, and for that, he has to pay the price. 

His fist leaves a dent in the living room wall as he punches it, shaking his aching hand out afterwards and soaking it in ice water. He turns the TV off, the movie he and Link were watching still paused, and he throws himself onto the loveseat, alone. There, with his head spinning and hand hurting, Rhett falls asleep. 

When he wakes up, he is still alone. But the silence in the house has been broken, a cacophony of sound spilling from down the hall. Rhett sits up too fast and has to pause, stars shooting across his vision. His head pounds to the same rhythm as his hand, thumping to the beat of his heart. When the world settles around him, Rhett rises, just in time to hear a crash from the direction of Link’s bedroom. 

“Shit,” Rhett hisses. He dashes down the hall to Link’s room, wincing as something heavy smashes against something made of glass. The sound of glass shards hitting the carpet beyond the closed bedroom door is too much for Rhett. He pauses, one hand on the doorknob and the other over his eyes. “Link?” he calls. _Companions left alone for too long have caused quite a mess_ , Rhett was told. He was told to take care, to be good to his robot, to be kind. And what did he do? He shouted at Link; he scared the hell out of Link. And he ordered Link to go away. 

“Shit.” Rhett sags against the door, pressing his forehead to the wood. He jumps a foot in the air when glass shatters against the door on the other side. “Link!” Rhett cries. “Stop throwing things! I’m coming in!” He shakes the doorknob to find it locked, his little robot shutting him out just as Rhett did to him. “No,” Rhett breathes. “No, no, no. Link! Let me in!” 

Instead of Link’s beautiful, cheery voice coming to him in reply, another heavy something smashes into the door. It rattles on its hinges, the doorknob shaking in Rhett’s sweaty hand. 

“Link!” Rhett cries, feeling more lost than he could have ever imagined feeling. Glass crashes against the door. Rhett’s knees buckle. “Link!”


	6. Safety

It takes Rhett a long while to realize the sounds of utter chaos have subsided. He leans heavily on the door between him and the sound of silence, his knees aching from hitting the floor. It takes him even longer to gather the courage to say, “Link…?” He gets nothing in reply. “Link, are you…are you okay in there?” 

More silence. 

“Link, please let me in.” Rhett jiggles the doorknob, rattling the door, but it doesn’t budge. “Sweetheart,” he sighs, pressing his forehead to the cool wood of the door. “Link, hey, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Please, can you let me in?” 

When Link replies, his voice is thickened with a frighteningly real mimicry of choking up. “I’m…I am sorry.”

“No, what do you have to be sorry about?” Rhett asks through the door. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It was my fault.”

“It’s my fault because I do not understand _anything_ ,” Link cries. “I try so hard and I still can’t understand you. I don’t know why you feel the way you do, and I can’t even…I can’t even _empathize_ with you…”

“Link,” Rhett breathes against the door. “Link, I love you. Let me in.”

A pause. “You…you still love me?” The disbelief in Link’s voice makes Rhett want to cry. 

“Yes,” he says, instead of breaking down, instead of giving up and walking away. “Yes, of course. People get into fights, Link, and they still love each other. I…I still love my brother. It’s just what people do. They get better after fights.” 

“They…they do?”

“Yes, honey,” Rhett says. “I promise. Please, God, Link, let me in. Let me hold you.” And he hates it, the neediness, the pleading, the desperation in his voice. He let himself get in too deep and more and more, Rhett is sure. There is no recovering from Link. If Rhett lost his little robot now, there would be no getting better. There would be no coming back. The realization feels like a block of ice settling into Rhett’s stomach, but for the moment, he ignores it. For the moment, all he wants is to hold onto Link. 

Link crunches through glass to open the door and, all at once, he is in Rhett’s arms. Rhett cradles him on the carpet, the two of them on their knees, and Rhett closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to look beyond Link to the chaos he created just yet. He wants to cherish the way Link feels in his arms before he has to face the damage Link has done. 

“I’m sorry,” Link whispers. “I didn’t mean to. You just…and I…it’s a g-g-glitch…” Through the aftermath of the glitch that Rhett should have seen coming, Link stammers himself into silence. He holds tightly onto Rhett, face buried in his neck, glasses sharp as they jab into Rhett’s skin. Rhett tells him it’s okay. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” Rhett says. “It’s my own fault my brother came looking for me. He’s right. I’ve been hiding.” Rhett runs his hands through Link’s silky hair as Link clings to him, Rhett’s knees sore from digging into the carpet. “Get up,” Rhett says. “Come with me.” He climbs to his feet, giving Link no choice but to let him go. Rhett offers Link one hand. Link looks at it for a moment, his brow furrowed and his lip between his teeth, and then he takes it. Their palms slotting together like puzzle pieces, Rhett lifts his little robot to his feet. “Come with me,” Rhett says again. Link follows Rhett to his room, his hand limp in Rhett’s. The chaos glitch has left him stumbling and unsure as Rhett sits him down in bed, his hands on Link’s shoulders. 

“Have you been reading the book I got you for Christmas?” Rhett asks. “The one about learning to play the guitar?” 

Stoic, Link nods. His eyes do strange things, flitting up to Rhett and away again, pupils dilating and shrinking in rapid succession. He’s glassy-eyed, pliant under Rhett’s hands, and it scares the hell out of Rhett. 

“Link, why don’t you read some more?” Rhett asks. _Please, please let him be all right_. “Link? I’ll get your room cleaned up and when I g-get back we c-can work on some music. Okay?” He starts to stammer just as badly as Link, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. Again, Link nods. “Baby,” Rhett breathes. “Please say something.” 

“I think I will be quite out of t-touch f-f-f-for a while,” Link replies. His eyes are faraway, somewhere beyond Rhett. “I m-m-might have to do a h-h-hard reset.” 

“A what?” Rhett asks. 

“R-r-r-reset,” Link stammers. “When something gets l-loose in m-me, I have to do a hard r-r-reset to fix it. I am a-a-afraid that seems inevitable at the m-m-moment.” 

“What does that mean?” Rhett asks. He squeezes Link’s shoulders, back aching from leaning over Link as he sits in Rhett’s bed. Link doesn’t respond to the touch, but with a shimmy in his voice and a twitch in his shoulders, he answers the question. 

“It t-t-takes a few hours, I b-b-believe,” Link replies. “D-don’t be alarmed. When I power b-b-back up, I should be g-g-good as n-new.” 

“Link,” Rhett says. “No, no, Link, please don’t leave me.” 

“I am sorry to say I have n-no control over this,” Link replies. His eyes are glazed over behind his glasses, foggy and dull, and Rhett is going to lose it. He is going to _lose it_ if he loses Link now. “I p-promise I will be okay, R-R-Rhett,” Link stammers. “When I power b-back up, I w-will be no more w-worse for w-wear.” 

“Then why do you have to do it?” Rhett asks, giving Link a little shake when he doesn’t reply. “Hey, are you with me?” 

“Oh, yes,” Link says, but his voice quivers as he slides away. “I am w-with you a-a-always, R-Rhett.” At that, his eyes close, baby blue irises vanishing, and Rhett’s heart goes with them. He gives Link another futile shake, Link’s head lolling forwards, chin dropping to his chest. Rarely has Rhett seen him powered off and lifeless. It hurts Rhett’s heart to see Link utterly gone. 

“Shit,” Rhett breathes. “ _Shit_.” He eases Link into bed, laying him down and dragging the blankets up to his chin. “Shit,” Rhett sighs again. He hates this, the loneliness that sets in like a shadow only kept at bay by Link’s smile. He scrubs a hand over his face, resisting the urge to punch another dent into the wall. Instead, he watches Link for a while, his little robot somewhere far away while Rhett can do nothing but wait. As an afterthought, Rhett plucks Link’s glasses from his face and places them carefully on the nightstand by the bed. Serene as Link looks, Rhett can’t help but feel uneasy. Silence is something new to him all over again, Link filling every quiet space in the house. Without him, quietness presses in from all sides. 

Rhett shuts Link in his bedroom and prepares himself for a night spent alone. 

Sooner or later, Rhett is going to have to face the chaos of Link’s bedroom. He forces his way into the room, the door blocked by the broken bedframe, to find every single thing in the room torn to shreds. The bed is upended and the lamp is smashed against the door, Rhett stepping over broken glass and porcelain to get into the room. With his hands clasped at the back of his head, Rhett stands in the middle of the room and tries to decide where the hell to start. The movie posters on the walls are torn down, hanging in pieces, and the desk looks like it was thrown against the window. It hangs half out of the house and half inside it, two legs through the window. Rhett starts there. 

Careful around shards of the broken window, Rhett drags the desk back inside. Glass litters the carpet at Rhett’s feet as he tries to set the desk upright. One of the legs is fractured and the desk buckles, smashing into Rhett’s shins on the way down. He curses and takes a big step back, stepping carelessly into broken glass. He narrowly avoids getting glass in his foot and tiptoes from the room to get his slippers. 

The rest of the cleanup does one thing for Rhett. It keeps his mind busy as he yearns to check up on Link. _You’ll know when he’s awake_ , Rhett tells himself. Even so, he wants desperately to check, to see for himself. Picking the larger pieces of glass out of the carpet and vacuuming up the smaller ones keeps him from doing so. 

He lies the shredded movie posters out on the kitchen table and tries to reassemble them, taping and rearranging, but quickly giving up on the idea. The posters go into the trash can along with the broken lamps and the pieces from the broken window. Tomorrow, Rhett will call someone and get the window fixed. Tomorrow, Rhett will use the leftover paint he stowed in the basement to repaint over the scratches in the blue walls. Tomorrow, Rhett will spackle the holes in the walls and buy new lamps. Tomorrow he will buy a new desk and a new chair to replace the broken ones sitting on the curb outside where Rhett tossed them. 

_Tomorrow will be better_. Rhett tells himself so with no proof, sweating through his T-shirt as he drags the splintered bedframe outside to join the rest of the furniture. Tomorrow will be better. It has to be. 

 

Hours later, close to midnight, Rhett still has not heard a sound from his bedroom. He lies on top of the covers on Link’s mattress, scared to sleep in case he misses Link’s awakening. Lying still does nothing to stop Rhett’s mind from churning and, try as he might, he can’t calm himself down. He’s up and making his way to his own bedroom before he can think twice. The bedroom door opens to utter silence and to Link looking much the same as he did a few hours before. He’s too still and it scares Rhett more than he expected. Stillness looks terrible on the little robot, his face perfectly smooth and his eyes closed. Rhett tries to reach out and brush a lock of hair from his face but instead, he finds himself choking back tears. 

“Just…come back to me, please,” Rhett whispers. “All right?” 

In the morning, Rhett awakes after a night spent fighting nightmares to find that nothing has changed. Panic makes it hard to pick up the phone and even harder to dial. Rhett sits at Link’s side in bed, holding one limp hand in both of his own, the phone held in the crook of his neck. It rings twice before a robotic voice answers. 

“Thank you for calling A Better Tomorrow, Inc.,” the cheerful recording says. “Your call is very important to us. For information on our companion robots, press one. For questions regarding the status of your order, press two.” Rhett zones out, drumming his fingers impatiently on the back of Link’s hand, until the voice says, “For emergencies, press zero.”

“Well, Christ, you could have said that one first!” Rhett says to himself, letting go of Link’s hand to jab at the zero on his screen. This time, the phone only rings once before a real person picks up. 

“Thank you for calling the ABT Inc. emergency hotline,” the woman says, chipper and bright. “What can I help you with today?” 

“My Link…my _companion_ ,” Rhett says, trying to keep the shakiness from his voice. “He powered off last night to do a hard reset and he told me…he said it would only be a few hours but…it’s been all night and surely this isn’t normal…” 

“A hard reset?” the woman on the line asks. Rhett hears her typing through the phone. “Okay, you’re Mr. McLaughlin?” she asks. 

“Yes,” Rhett says impatiently.

“And your companion’s serial number is 060178?” 

“Yes, but his name is Link.” 

“Okay,” the woman says, typing away and not listening. “Now, do you know what prompted your companion to perform a hard reset?”

“Well, he sort of…I sort of…shit.” Rhett sighs, dropping his chin to his chest, unable to form a coherent thought, never mind sentences. He tries again. “It was my fault. I left him alone. And he…he panicked. He tore apart his room and when he finally calmed down, he told me he had to do a reset to fix whatever broke in him…”

The woman on the other line makes a noncommittal sort of sound as she types out Rhett’s petrified rambling like she’s writing a script. “Okay,” she says. “And you said this happened last night?”

“Yes,” Rhett replies. Another noncommittal click of the woman’s tongue follows. 

“Okay, and how many hours has it been?”

“I dunno,” Rhett sighs. “Too many.” 

“I can assure you, sir, your companion will restart soon,” the woman says. “These glitches do happen, and the companions simply need time to recover. If, however, your companion has not restarted by tomorrow morning…”

“Tomorrow?!” Rhett cries. His hand finds Link’s again, squeezing his limp fingers. “No, no, don’t tell me my only choice is to just sit here and wait until…”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman says. “Would you like us to send out a technician to check the status of your companion’s reset?”

“Couldn’t they just…wake him up?”

“Oh, no,” the woman says. “Interrupting the reset process is not advised. Your companion could be in the middle of resetting important information, after all, such as their name or yours. We do not advise doing anything but waiting, I’m afraid, as trying to upset the reset may result in…”

“Oh, I get it,” Rhett huffs, feeling entirely not himself. “Thanks for the help.” He hangs up the phone and tries to toss it on the bed. It slides off the mattress and tumbles to the floor instead, out of Rhett’s reach. He leaves it there. Without anything else to do, Rhett tucks himself into his bed at Link’s side. He lies on his side, facing away from Link, scared to look into his blank face. All he does for a few quiet minutes is breathe beside Link, waiting for a sign of life. When he gets nothing, he feels like crying, not ready to face a day of silence. But if Rhett is really going to lie here all day in the hopes of Link waking up, he is going to have to call out of work. Reaching his phone proves impossible from where he lies and he grumbles to himself as he gets up, digging under the bed. Once he has the phone back in his hand, he puts on his best sick voice and gets the day off without having to put on much of an act. After that, it’s hard to slide back into bed. Link is too still, a pretty picture but not much else. 

_He’s still in there_ , Rhett tells himself. It’s only after this stern reminder that Rhett is able to wind his arm around Link’s middle, lying with his head on Link’s chest. Rhett wishes, with a jab of pain deep in his gut, that Link could breathe. He wishes Link’s chest would rise and fall, just to remind Rhett that he’s in there somewhere. The complete nothingness in his little robot is overwhelming at the least and world-shattering at the most. Rhett isn’t good at handling things like this; he’s not good at handling quietness. He curls himself around Link, just as lost, small, and pitiful as Cole believes him to be. Why the hell should he be any different? His parents know the truth now, and to them, Rhett has to be something pathetic. Something to be coddled, handled with care, and tiptoed around. They must think so little of him, poor, lonely Rhett in his empty house, so desperate for human contact that he ordered a robot to keep him company. 

The thoughts that plague him do nothing to help, and Rhett finds himself drying tears on Link’s T-shirt. If he’s going to be the person his family has always thought he was, he might as well sink fully into the role. He cries on Link’s shoulder, the world crashing down around him, and the only thing he hates more than the blanket of sadness falling over him is himself. He let himself get to this point, to the point of needing Link so badly. He deserves to feel this sorrowful, this empty. He should never have let his dependency go so far. It has brought him no good at all, falling so damn hard. What was he thinking? Sniffling, tired, and feeling useless, Rhett lies curled up beside Link and tries to get some semblance of control over his tears. Is he a grown man or a kid crying over a scraped knee? 

_Pull yourself together_. Rhett makes himself pull away from Link, sitting up and watching Link sleep. He’s beautiful even in perfect stillness, the hand Rhett dropped lying lifeless, palm up, on the mattress. Rhett scoops it up again, Link’s fingers limp in both his hands, and Rhett presses a kiss to each of Link’s knuckles. 

“Hey,” Rhett breathes into Link’s cool skin. “Come back to me. Please.” 

After that, it’s a little easier to walk away. Rhett uses his day off to finish cleaning up the mess of Link’s bedroom. He puts music on as he repaints the room, turning it up loud enough to keep himself distracted. He sings along, tossing paint haphazardly on the wall and rushing to fix it before it drips onto the carpet. Despite his plans to buy new furniture and lamps, Rhett stays put as the paint dries. He can’t bring himself to leave the house, worried about Link waking to find himself alone. The thought hurts Rhett’s heart and he decides to stay, ordering lamps online instead as he sits at Link’s side with his laptop. He chooses the same lamps, intent on pretending for Link’s sake that the meltdown never happened. Link was distraught when he powered off and Rhett imagines he will be even more so when he wakes. Rhett wants to make the ensuing recovery period as smooth as possible. Whatever Link needs to feel better, Rhett will give it to him. 

He tells Link so even though it’s fruitless, even though Link can’t hear him. It makes Rhett feel a little bit better just to talk, to fill the silence if nothing else. 

Rhett murmurs mindlessly to Link, one hand scrolling in search of a glass repair company and the other hand on Link’s thigh. He stops short as he speaks, not telling Link the one thing that he should. Part of him meant what he said when he told Link, _this has to stop_. As much as it hurts, a stab of pain in Rhett’s heart, the breakneck speed at which Rhett fell for Link has not been good for either of them. To help Link heal, to help him feel okay, Rhett is going to take a step back. He is going to love Link, love him with all he has, but he is going to keep his hands to himself. He is going to keep his sweet nothings to himself. No more _I love you_ and no more _I need you_ , not until Link feels better. Not until Rhett is more sure of himself. No more falling into bed and no more lingering stares. No more anything, not until Rhett knows what he wants. (He wants Link.) 

Rhett sighs. He squeezes Link’s thigh, chin dropping to his chest, a shuddery breath escaping him. It was selfish to drag Link into the mess that is Rhett’s life. Link deserves someone more put together, someone who knows what the hell they want. Link deserves someone better than Rhett. The realization hurts worse than the stillness in Link’s face. Link deserves far better than what Rhett can give him. Does he have the capacity to realize such a thing for himself? (If he does, it’s only a matter of time before he chooses to leave Rhett.)

The terrible, useless thoughts won’t leave Rhett alone and he finds himself burrowing his nose into the crook of Link’s neck, his laptop sliding to the floor. He has until Link wakes up to hold onto every whisper of _I love you_ and _I need you_. He’s going to take it for as long as he can. His lips at Link’s throat, Rhett breathes him in, desperate for a scent that’s entirely Link. There’s not much to the smell of Link, not much beyond the faint scent of clean skin chased by something metallic. But Rhett breathes it in, looking for Link anywhere he can find him. For the moment, the scent of his skin is all Rhett has. It has to be enough. 

Rhett tries to keep busy throughout the day, watching TV and dragging a thousand piece puzzle up from the basement to do while he waits for the glass repair company. He’s nearly a third of the way into it before the doorbell rings. Rhett brings the gray haired man from the repair company to Link’s bedroom, making up a ridiculous story about a bird smashing through the window and going haywire, the cause for all the chaos. Luckily, the man hardly seems to care about the story, and he accepts it with a grim nod and a shrug. It doesn’t take long for him to fit the empty space with a new pane of glass, pristine and sparkling with the sun spilling through it. 

“You sure a bird did this?” the man asks on his way out the door, jabbing with a thumb towards the broken furniture on the curb. “It do that, too?” 

“It was a very big bird,” Rhett lies, and he all but slams the door in the man’s face. Alone again, Rhett breathes a sigh of relief. That’s one thing done. The paint is almost dry, the smell of it still high in the air even in the living room, and the paint cans are stowed away again. Rhett feels better, getting things done as Link sleeps off the damage he did to himself, and by the time the sun begins to set, Rhett almost feels good. But one look at Link, still lying lifeless in bed, and Rhett feels like sinking again. He drops to his knees beside the bed, brushing back Link’s hair with careful fingertips. 

“Hey,” Rhett breathes. “I would really appreciate it if you’d wake up, Link. I miss you.” He lowers his chin to the mattress and gets nothing, not one sign of life. “That’s okay,” Rhett replies anyway. “I know you probably did a number on yourself. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I wasn’t careful enough with you. But listen. When you come back to me, I’m gonna be better. I’m gonna do right by you, all right? Like I shoulda been doing this whole time. Because you mean a lot to me, Link, and I don’t wanna lose you. But…something’s gotta change. I can’t…shit.” Rhett takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I can’t keep needing you like this. You can’t even imagine the hole it tears in me.” His piece said, Rhett rises to his feet to brush his teeth, leaving Link alone. When he returns, everything is the same. Rhett climbs into bed, turning in early in the hopes that he can manage one good night of sleep. “Scoot over, will ya?” Rhett jokes, speaking to himself more than he is to Link. One day of being alone and Rhett is back to talking to inanimate objects. Does Link count as one simply because he is lifeless at the moment? Rhett doesn’t like thinking of him as an object and cuts his laughter off. “Sorry,” he says. He turns his head to look at Link, mere inches between their faces. As Rhett reaches for the blankets to drag them up, Link’s eyes fly open. 

“Shit!” Rhett gasps, throwing himself backwards so fast he goes tumbling out of bed. His back cries out in pain as he hits the carpet, shock loosening his limbs, and it takes him far too long to scramble to his knees. “Link!” Rhett cries, hands on the mattress, knees on the floor. “Link, are you with me?” 

Link turns his head slowly, looking away from the ceiling, his eyes meeting Rhett’s with agonizing sluggishness. His brilliant blue eyes narrow, confusion crossing his delicate features. But after a quiet moment in which Rhett starts offering prayers to whoever listens, Link’s face lights up. “Rhett,” he coos, a smile blooming on his face. “Oh, Rhett, hello.” 

Relief washes over Rhett, threatening to drag him out to sea. He sags against the bedframe, chest pressed to the mattress, hands seeking Link’s. At the same time, Link reaches out for him. Their hands clasp clumsily, Rhett wrapping both his hands around one of Link’s. The feeling of Link squeezing back when Rhett tightens his grip is enough to make Rhett weak with joy. 

“Are you okay?” Rhett asks, pressing the back of Link’s hand to his lips. As his beard brushes Link’s knuckles, the little robot’s mouth quirks up.

“Tickles,” he says. He rolls to his side, his other hand coming up to wrap around Rhett’s, the two of them face to face with their noses almost touching. “Did I frighten you?” Link whispers. His eyes are open wide, so sincere that Rhett wants to cry. Instead, he nods. 

“Yes,” he says. 

“I’m very sorry,” Link replies. He whispers still, the two of them in a little bubble of quietness, and he leans in to press his forehead to Rhett’s. “I’m very sorry that I sometimes do not understand you. I’m sorry I broke everything. Do you…do you forgive me, Rhett?” 

“Yes,” Rhett says again. “There’s nothing to forgive. I should be the one begging your forgiveness, Link. I haven’t been the best I can be for you. You understand that, don’t you? That you only deserve the best?” 

“Oh, Rhett…” 

“You do. I…” Rhett swallows, almost breaking, almost forgetting the promise he made to himself while Link was asleep. No saying _I love you. Not now_. “I’m so glad you’re back with me,” he says instead. He follows Link’s lead, whispering just the same as him, just as soft and quiet. 

“Me too,” Link replies. And then, his eyes crystal clear and sparkling, he asks, “Rhett, can you hold me?”

There’s nothing Rhett wants to do more. But he holds back, unsure of where to draw the line in the sand, unsure if he should tell Link exactly where they stand. Link looks so small, curled up on the bed, soft and beautiful, and Rhett can’t hurt Link just yet. So, he climbs back into bed, knees popping as he rises to his feet and clambers over Link. He pulls Link in close to his chest, wrapping a protective arm around Link’s middle and settling in amongst a haphazard pile of pillows. 

“Thank you,” Link whispers. Rhett says nothing. After a quiet minute, the only sound in the room that of Rhett’s not so quiet breathing, Link whispers something else. “I have to tell you something,” he says. 

“What’s that?” 

“We dream, you know. When we’re powered down. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No.”

“We do. I do, at least. I can’t say about the others, I suppose. But I dream, every time.” He pauses, something heavy weighing on his mind judging by the timidity in his voice. 

“What do you dream about, Link?” Rhett whispers. He follows the question with a kiss to the shell of Link’s ear, a kiss he shouldn’t give but one he can’t resist offering. Link makes a happy sound and Rhett is glad to be the cause of it. What’s the harm in that? 

“You,” Link replies. “I dream about you.”

“What about me?” 

“I dream about how much I love you,” Link says. Instinctively, Rhett tightens the arm he has around Link. “But the dreams almost always end badly. Because I know I can’t love you as deeply as you love me, and that makes me sad. But I know I can’t feel the same depth of sadness you feel...I just wish I could explain to you how it makes me feel, not being able to truly feel. It’s something I imagine you would have to feel yourself to understand.” 

Rhett’s head spins from the pain in Link’s voice, the yearning tangible in the way it slips from Link’s lips. “Oh, Link,” he sighs. He follows it with something he shouldn’t, something he can’t promise. He says it anyway. “I’m gonna do whatever it takes to give you everything you’re hurting for,” Rhett says, whispering into the side of Link’s throat. “Okay? I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.” 

In reply, Link shivers in Rhett’s arms. The motion is probably an aftereffect of the glitch, an aftershock for lack of a better word, but even so, it makes Link feel human for a moment, locked in Rhett’s embrace. 

“Okay,” Link whispers. He reaches for Rhett’s hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the center of Rhett’s palm. “Thank you, Rhett.” The reverent thanks is all Rhett needs. For the moment, he is all right. He is satisfied. And all he can do is hope Link’s happiness follows. 

 

Rhett waits until Link is engrossed in _Wizard of Oz_ a few days later to sneak to the bathroom, dial the number for ABT Inc., and wait for someone to pick up the phone. After waiting through the usual myriad of options listed in a robotic voice, Rhett waits on hold to talk to a real person. He drums his fingers on his knee, perched on the toilet seat lid with his knees drawn to his chest. It’s an uncomfortable position, but Rhett stays put. It’s important to him to keep this a secret from Link, to keep this a surprise. 

“You’ve reached the ABT Inc. questions and concerns hotline, how can I help you?” a male voice finally says through the phone. 

“Hi,” Rhett replies. He finds himself breathless and has to take a deep breath and try again. “Hi, I have a question.”

“Well, you’ve certainly called the right number,” the man chuckles, and Rhett feels some of the tension leave his shoulders. He couldn’t take another robotic voice or someone who answered questions in monotone. This man sounds friendly and willing to help, and Rhett takes in another deep, almost painful breath and spits out what he’s trying to say.

“Listen, my companion,” Rhett says, one hand cupping the back of his neck and the other wrapped tight around his phone. “He…he’s sad. He’s really, _really_ sad.”

“Sad?” the man asks, typing away like all the other ABT employees Rhett has spoken to over the phone. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know the reason behind your companion’s mood?”

“Yes,” Rhett says. “He…he wants more.”

The man pauses in his typing. “More?”

“Yeah. More. Like, more feelings. More abilities. He just wants to be human, and I don’t think that’s normal, but I just want him to be happy, and I can’t give him what he wants, and it’s killing me to see him so sad, and he can’t even _cry_ about it like he wants to, and…”

“Sir?” the man interrupts. Rhett shuts his mouth with a click of his teeth and waits for him to go on. “Would you say your companion wishes to have more emotions? More complex versions of the emotions he currently has?”

“Yes,” Rhett replies. Again, the man pauses. 

“All right,” the man says. “Why don’t I transfer you to the offsite research unit closest to you? I believe they can help you there.” 

Without much of a choice, Rhett agrees. He gnaws on one thumbnail, heart pounding, as the phone rings once and then twice. On the third ring, another man picks up the phone, voice cheery and loud on the other line. 

“ABT Research Lab, Raleigh,” he says, followed quickly by, “How can I help you today?” The man listens, making soft noises of interest as Rhett retells the sorry tale of Link’s sorry state of mind. He tells the man of Link’s desire, the yearning to feel more than he can, and the man listens patiently to every rambling word. By the time Rhett stammers himself quiet, throat dry and tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth from his nerves, he can practically hear the man nodding as he _mhms_ to everything Rhett says. 

“That’s it,” Rhett finishes, swallowing hard. “Can you do anything for me? For him?” 

“I believe we just might be able to, Mr. McLaughlin,” the man replies. “Come by our lab at noon tomorrow and we’ll see what we can do for your companion. There is a thing or two we are working on that may be able to give him exactly what he’s looking for.” 

Rhett grips the phone, paralyzed by excitement and nervous energy, and sighs into the phone. “Thank you,” he breathes. “Thank you so much.” He’ll have to call out of work, he’ll have to make up another illness, but for Link, Rhett would do anything. He would give Link his own heart, his own brain, his own blood and tears and sweat if he could. But since he can’t, since he can’t give all that much, this will have to be enough. Rhett buzzes with excitement as the man gives Rhett an address and an access code to the parking garage. He jots it down on his hand in black ink and thanks the man a dozen times before hanging up the phone. Once the line goes dead, Rhett leans back on the toilet seat, lolling his head back and running his hands through his hair. 

This is going to be a good thing. This is going to help Link feel better. Whatever it is, whatever they can give, Rhett is going to do all he can to take it. Link deserves the best that he can get. 

When Rhett returns, Link remarks at how long he was gone before accepting Rhett back under one arm. Cuddled close to Link’s chest, Rhett mumbles something about a phone call from his mother and Link accepts the lie, his focus on the flying monkeys on the TV screen. 

“Is she angry with me?” Link whispers, his lips in Rhett’s hair. Link kisses the top of Rhett’s head as Rhett struggles to find an answer. 

He settles on, “Why in the world would she be angry with you, Link?”

“Because I have your heart,” Link replies matter-of-factly. “And I am not a real person who can give her son a good life. Don’t you see how that would make her angry?”

“Oh, Link,” Rhett replies. He splays his hand over Link’s mechanical heart, the thumping of it the best thing Rhett has ever heard. “No one is angry with you, honey,” Rhett says. “And if they were, I would hunt them to the end of the earth to tell them they’re wrong.” At that, Link chuckles, the sound surprising Rhett. He lifts his head to find Link’s mouth quirked up at one corner, his eyes gleaming as he laughs. 

“Thank you, Rhett,” Link replies. “That’s very kind of you. Now, can we please get back to the movie? I am quite afraid of what’s going to happen next.” 

Rhett laughs and means it entirely when he tells his little robot, “I love you to pieces.” He says it heedlessly, and without blinking, without pause, Link says it back. 

“Thank you for loving me,” he adds at the end, pressing another kiss to the top of Rhett’s head. “I love that you love me.” 

Rhett doesn’t tell him about the phone call he really made. He doesn’t tell Link about the fear threatening to boil over in his chest, the fear of losing Link. But he can still tell Link he loves him. It’s the truth, after all. He just has to tread lightly and take a step back when he needs to. He can do that. For Link, he can do anything. 

Rhett settles back against Link’s chest and tries to lose himself in the movie. It’s almost impossible to think about anything with so much pressing down on Rhett, but once Link begins to laugh in delight at the Cowardly Lion’s singing, it gets easier. Everything gets easier when Link is laughing. (Rhett doesn’t tell him that, either.)

 

Calling out of work one more time earns Rhett a stern lecture from his boss, but his flawless sick voice and otherwise perfect record get him out of any more serious trouble. He thanks his boss profusely for allowing him the time to get better, and Link catches him feigning illness just as he hangs up the phone. 

“You’re not going to work again today?” he asks, head cocked comically to the side. 

“No,” Rhett replies. He takes a step closer to Link, drawing the little robot to him by the hips. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Link asks. His mouth quirks up into a tepid smile, confusion furrowing his brow.

“Yes,” Rhett replies. He presses a thumb to the spot between Link’s eyebrows where he carries tension, easing the worry in his face. “Do you trust me?” he asks. 

“Well, of course,” Link replies. 

“Good.” 

The two of them while away the morning working on a puzzle together, the activity a thousand times more fulfilling with Link at Rhett’s side. They sit on opposite sides of the kitchen table, the table forfeited just for the day to make room for the puzzle. Link is far quicker than Rhett, pressing pieces into place with careful fingers, one after the other, while Rhett hunts down one corner piece. Rhett laughs, telling him to slow down, but Link tells him they’re never going to finish if they don’t hurry up. Rhett reminds Link he never had trouble finishing puzzles without his help, and in return, the little robot shrugs. 

“You are more patient than me, it seems,” he says, nudging Rhett’s hand out of the way with his own. 

“Nah,” Rhett replies. “Just less focused on the finished product and more on the act of working my way through it.” 

Link looks over at Rhett through his eyelashes, head bowed towards the puzzle. He makes a strange little sound, like he can’t quite figure out what Rhett means. 

“What?” Rhett asks. 

“Nothing,” Link replies. He finishes the outside of the puzzle, save for the piece Rhett is yet to find, and he leans back in search of the next section to complete. 

“Tell me,” Rhett says. 

“It’s right there,” Link replies, pointing out the corner piece, and Rhett scoops it up, flicking it at Link with his thumb and forefinger. It hits him in the chin and he laughs, picking it up and sticking it in place. His hair falls over his face and Rhett reaches out before he can stop himself, brushing raven locks back with gentle fingers. At the touch, Link looks back up, meeting Rhett’s eyes. Now is not the time to remind him how beautiful he is. Still, it hurts Rhett deep in his chest to keep it to himself. “What are you thinking about?” Link asks. 

“What are _you_ thinking about?” Rhett counters. 

“The way we work together,” Link replies. “Me, working towards a goal, and you, enjoying the ride. Is it okay, Rhett, for two people to work two completely different ways, if they want the same end result?” 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. “Of course.” 

“Even if the two ways, the two people, are so vast in their differences it seems they should not work together so well at all?”

Rhett meets Link’s eyes again, folding his hands on the table and looking hard at Link. “What’s the matter?” he asks. Immediately, Link looks away. “You can tell me.”

“I suppose I’m just afraid,” Link says, “for lack of a better word. That you and I are so different, Rhett, even though there are ways in which we are the same. Doesn’t it worry you, Rhett, that we are so very different? It worries me.”

“Link, people are different,” Rhett replies. When he reaches across the table, both of Link’s hands slide gratefully into his. Rhett squeezes Link’s fingers to find them shaking minutely in his own. “That’s what makes us human, Link. Our ability to love each other despite all our differences. You understand that, don’t you? If all of us were exactly the same, where would the fun in that be?” 

Link ducks his head. “I suppose there is still a lot I have to learn, then,” he replies, voice soft. “Every time I think I might be close to learning it all, I discover something new.” Frustration fills his voice, giving it a harder edge, and Rhett squeezes his hands again. 

“That’s what being human is, honey,” Rhett breathes. “There’s always something new to learn. Always. I learn every day.”

“You do?” 

“Yes. Every day.” 

Link pauses. He draws his hands away, closing his fingers over a new puzzle piece, and as he locks it into place, he nods. “Thank you, Rhett,” he says. “For helping me learn.”

Rhett keeps one more thing from Link. Link teaches Rhett far more than Rhett could ever teach him. 

 

In the car, Link a bundle of nerves at Rhett’s side, Rhett drives and keeps his lips sealed about the reason for their outing. Link asks him over and over, peering out the window like something terrible might loom over the horizon. The nearest ABT Inc. lab outpost is nearly an hour away in Raleigh. Rhett much prefers the quietness of home over the noise of the city, and Link seems to feel the same. If Link was any more scared, Rhett would worry he might explode. But as they near the lab, Rhett begins to feel the same fear. He has no more idea of what is going to happen than Link does. 

Finally, they pass a sign in neon green, pointing the way to the lab. ABT INC RALEIGH RESEARCH LABORATORY, the sign reads, and all at once, Link’s hand flies to Rhett’s thigh. He squeezes hard, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from Rhett as he covers Link’s vicelike hand with his own. 

“Link!” Rhett cries, distracted by the pain of Link’s hand on him. “What are you…?” He trails off, glancing at Link. The little robot sits, staring straight ahead, his mouth a hard line. 

Link is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice quakes. “Rhett,” he whispers. “You’re not…you’re not taking me back, are you?” 

“Link!” Rhett says again. Link looks at him with despair in his eyes. “Oh, Link, no, don’t look at me like that. Why would I…how could you even think…oh, Link.” Rhett doesn’t know what to say first or how to make Link feel better. As he pulls up to the parking garage, he tries his best to lend some comfort. “Link,” he says. “This is a good thing. I made a phone call and they’re gonna try to help us. Whaddya say? Are you up for a little help?” 

Link’s grip on Rhett’s thigh eases just a fraction, allowing Rhett a little more air into his lungs. The pain lessened, he rolls down his window to punch the four digit code into the access gate. The bar locking them out of the parking garage rises with a creak, letting them inside, and Link’s hand bears down again twice as hard as Rhett pulls into the garage. 

“Ow, Link, be careful!” Rhett says, the car swerving across the nearly full garage. Rhett narrowly avoids hitting a car worth more than his house as Link lets go again, fear making him quake like a dog during a thunderstorm. 

“Rhett, I can’t, I don’t like this,” Link babbles, tapping Rhett urgently on the thigh as he pulls into a parking space and cuts the engine. Rhett unbuckles and twists in his seat, leaning across the center console to take Link’s face in his hands. Link’s eyes flit frantically over Rhett’s face, begging him to take them back home, but Rhett closes the space between them and presses a kiss to Link’s slack mouth. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” Rhett asks again. 

“Yes,” Link replies. 

“Then what are you so afraid of?” 

Link pauses, trembling beneath Rhett’s hands. “The things they could do to change me,” he whispers. 

“They can give you what you want,” Rhett replies, telling the truth, unable to see Link in so much fear for a second longer. “I made a phone call and they think they can give you exactly what you’re looking for.” 

“Oh, Rhett, you…” 

“You’re gonna get what you dream of, Link. Starting right now. Are you with me?” 

Link nods. “I am with you…always,” he replies. 

“Okay, then,” Rhett says. “Let’s go.”

 

The ABT Inc. building is made entirely of shining, blue tinged glass, the building casting light in every direction. Inside, it is clinical, white, and pristine, everything Rhett imagined it would be. Rhett and his little robot are welcomed and left in a waiting room, the walls a reassuringly benign ivory color and the chairs made of leather and steel. Link’s trembling stops and he sits up straight in his chair, one of his hands clasped in Rhett’s lap. They wait, Rhett getting more nervous by the second, and Link scolds him, telling him he will never be able to calm down if Rhett can’t either. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Rhett says, and they pass the rest of the wait in anxious silence. Ten minutes later, a woman in a crisp white lab coat and a stylish pair of white eyeglasses leads the way to the lab. They pass closed doors and open ones, Link peering with wide eyes into every room he can see. Men and women work over test tubes, microscopes, and algorithms, looking more like actors in a sci-fi movie than real scientists. Rhett finds himself catching Link’s hand up in his own and squeezing it despite his best efforts not to touch him. Link smiles weakly at him and Rhett is glad to be holding his hand, no matter what his brain tells him he ought to do. 

The woman leads them, heels clicking on the black tiled floor, to a lab at the end of the long, sprawling hallway. She holds one arm out and lets them in first, closing the door behind them. The room is full to bursting with equipment Rhett has never seen: silver instruments on a dozen tables, chairs that look like torture devices, vats of a violently bubbling substances, and a few men and women working with their heads bowed over it all. The room has a high ceiling and is the size and shape of a gymnasium without any of the things that belong in one. Rhett gulps, and at the sound, Link makes a frightened little squeaking noise that has Rhett winding an arm around him and squeezing reassuringly. 

“This is Doctor Levine,” the bespectacled woman says, leading the way across the room and introducing Rhett and Link to a pretty blonde woman with her long hair tucked behind her ears and her arms full of boxed syringes. 

“Oh, hello!” Doctor Levine says. She searches for somewhere to lay down her armful of boxes, darting around Rhett to drop them on an empty metal table, and she shoves her hair back with both hands and then offers one to Rhett. He shakes it, her grip strong, and she says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” as she offers her hand to Link. 

“She’s one of our newest but one of our best,” the woman from the waiting area says. “You’re in good hands.” She smiles, giving Rhett a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she spins on her heels and walks away. Link still has his hand enveloped in the doctor’s when Rhett turns away from the woman and back to Link. 

“So, Mr. McLaughlin,” Doctor Levine says once Link releases her hand. She flexes her fingers, fingertips white, and when Rhett looks down, he sees Link’s hand curled into a fist- Link’s scared out of his mind. “Let’s get straight to it. Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” 

Rhett and his little robot follow the doctor to her office on the other end of the massive lab. They settle into rigid chairs on the other side of her desk as she slides into her rolling chair behind it. She straightens some papers on her desk, mulling over something, and after a moment of consulting her notes, she looks up and meets Rhett’s eyes. 

“Let me tell you exactly what we can offer,” she says, folding her hands over her paperwork. She looks too young to be this formal, too young to have a job like this, but behind her delicate features, intelligence flashes in her eyes. Rhett swallows hard, having found Link’s hand again somehow, and he holds on tight. “We’re in the process of beginning a new experimental program,” the doctor begins. “And when your phone call came in, we decided you just might be perfect for it. We’re calling it _emotional augmentation_ , where we hope to be able to give our companions deeper, more complex versions of the emotions they already feel. If we get this right, Mr. McLaughlin, we hope that very soon, our companions will have a perfect mimicry of all human emotion. However, as it is experimental, I would have to ask you to sign some precautionary paperwork. We have discovered that, while the emotions are perfectly human, they can be a little unpredictable, just like a human’s.”

At the word unpredictable, Rhett stiffens. He echoes the word back at Doctor Levine, not so sure about this anymore. 

“Yes,” she says with a curt nod. “The right word might be erratic. Or…inconsistent. In any event, so far, we have ninety percent stability in our test subjects. However, no experiment goes perfectly the first time. Or the first one hundred times. Sometimes, the companions are unsure of what to do with their new emotions. They can be prone to long bouts of crying, for instance. And, as they cannot shed tears, they tend to get distressed by the strangeness of crying without them.”

Link’s fingers flex in Rhett’s and the doctor’s eyes flick down to their entangled hands. She looks back up into Rhett’s face without saying anything. 

“We will gladly install this new program into your companion, Mr. McLaughlin, if you would like to give it a try. We can always uninstall if you are unhappy with the change. And the irregularity of the emotions is nothing that can’t be fixed with time. I would suggest, in the event of your companion getting overwhelmed with emotion, that you ask it to power down.”

“Him,” Rhett says. 

“Ah, him,” the doctor amends. Again, her eyes flit down to Rhett’s hand wrapped around Link’s. Again, she says nothing. “Would you like to give the program a try, Mr. McLaughlin?” she asks. “It would be a great help to us to further our research, and we would gladly give you anything you needed to help you adjust to the change. What do you think? Does it appeal to you?” 

Rhett looks over at Link, who sits with his toes pointed together and his shoulders slumped down low. He looks petrified, his lip between his teeth. He still shakes. But beyond that, his eyes shine, curiosity burning in bright blue irises. 

“It’s not up to me,” Rhett says to Link. “It’s up to you.” 

“Oh!” Link chirps. “Me? You want me to decide?” 

“It’s your brain,” Rhett says. “Your emotions. Your body. If you want this, it’s yours.” 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link says. “Please. Yes. I’m not scared. I want it. All of it, I want it.”

“Okay, then,” Rhett says. He turns back to Doctor Levine, excitement making his heart thrum. “We’ll try it,” he says. “Why the hell not? We’ll try it.”


	7. Altered

Link sits perched on an examination table, his hands folded neatly in his lap. Rhett sits in the corner of the room, buzzing with nerves, mimicking Link’s pose without meaning to. They wait for Doctor Levine to return with the chip she is going to install into Link. The nervous twitching of Link’s knees sets Rhett on edge, but he can’t bring himself to ask Link to cut it out. Rhett is twice as nervous as Link looks. He sits on the edge of his chair with his hands shaking as Link swings his legs. When Doctor Levine returns, she walks into the room to find both Rhett and Link stoic, silent, and shaky. 

“This is going to be a good thing,” she assures Link, dropping one hand on his shoulder. He nods, looking as frightened as an animal in headlights. The doctor walks briskly around the table to Link’s back. Link swivels his head as far as he can to watch her. “I’m going to ask you to power down,” she says, reaching into Link’s hair to feel for the notch at the back of his head. “I’m going to implant this chip and boot you back up. You should expect to feel a little overwhelmed when you first wake up, okay? Just remember that you are safe and in good hands. Can you remember that for me?” 

“Yes,” Link says. 

“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable before we begin?” Doctor Levine asks. She fiddles with the chip in her fingertips, placing it carefully in the center of her palm. Link cranes his neck to watch her pick the chip up from her palm with tweezers, her eyes focused and mouth tight. 

“Um,” Link replies, struck dumb. “No. No, I think I’m all right.” He gives Rhett a quick glance he almost doesn’t see. By the time Rhett rises and reaches for Link, Link has his eyes back on Doctor Levine. Rhett places his hands on Link’s knees and gets his attention back. 

“ _Are_ you all right?” Rhett asks. He wants to give Link a chance to change his mind, to back out, to stay the way he is. He wants the choice to be Link’s and only Link’s. But Rhett’s little robot looks back at him, his glasses low on his nose, peeking at Rhett with a shy smile dancing on his lips. 

“I’m okay,” he says. “I want to try this. Thank you…for giving me this opportunity.” At the softness of his voice, the gratitude and the solemnity, Rhett wants to pause the scene. He wants to lean in and press a kiss to Link’s forehead. He wants to kiss his lips and assure him this is good, this is safe, and this is what he has been waiting for. But in the real world, there is nothing okay about the way Link makes Rhett’s heart stutter and hop at double speed. In the presence of the doctor, all clinical and tight-lipped, the best Rhett can give his little robot is a soft pat on the knee. 

“Anything for you,” Rhett says. 

“Okay,” the doctor says, laying one hand on Link’s shoulder again. “I’m going to ask you to power down now, okay? I will wake you up the moment the chip is in, and I will just have to ask you a few questions and run a few quick tests before you’re all set to go home. Okay?” 

Eyes locked on Rhett’s, Link nods. “Okay,” he says. As he powers down, his eyes close, but Rhett doesn’t have to take in the picture of his closed eyelids for long. His head bows, chin falling to his chest, and Rhett takes a step back. It makes his stomach hurt to see Link shut down. Instead of looking at Link’s hair in his face, Rhett walks around the examination table to watch Doctor Levine work. 

“All I have to do is cut a small slit right here,” she says, sensing Rhett’s anxiety and walking him through the procedure. As much as it makes his chest feel tight, he appreciates the gesture. The doctor takes a scalpel from the pocket of her coat, awkwardly pulling it from its sealed plastic packaging with the hand not holding the tweezers and the chip. The plastic bag flutters to the floor as the doctor rises on her toes to make a careful incision in the back of Link’s neck. Despite the lack of blood and the lack of tissue, it makes Rhett’s stomach do a somersault and he puts a hand to his mouth and turns away. He didn’t expect to have such a strong reaction to seeing the inside of his little robot, but the smallest glimpse of metal instead of bone sends Rhett reeling. He makes a small, anxious noise, and the doctor glances back at him. 

“It’s all right,” she says. “This is a very easy procedure. Are you squeamish?” She smiles a sly little smile at him and Rhett nods sheepishly. 

“Guess I am,” he replies. “It’s news to me.” 

“Well, there is nothing to worry about,” Doctor Levine says. “Trust me.” 

“Sure, Doc,” Rhett says, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears as the doctor slips the chip into the slit in Link’s skin. 

“You can call me Stevie,” she says. “I assume we will be seeing more of one another, whether this procedure gives you what you want or not. I want us to be on a first name basis. Does that sound good to you?”

Rhett would say anything to avoid looking at the garish cut in the back of Link’s head. “Sure, sure,” he says, swallowing a lump threatening to come up his throat. He keeps his eyes locked on the crystal clear eyes of the doctor as she works the chip into place. 

“I’m just getting the chip right alongside his current emotion implant,” the doctor, Stevie, says, looking away from Rhett to focus on her own slender, dexterous hands. “If I were to replace the old one with this one entirely, we would run the risk of your companion losing a bit of what he has become, due to your influence.”

“Uh huh,” Rhett says, and when Stevie gets the chip in place and pulls her hand out of the back of Link’s skull, Rhett has to lean against the wall for support. He clutches his stomach and Stevie laughs a light little laugh, teasing him gently for his queasiness. 

“I thought getting a Ph.D. in robotics instead of pediatrics, like my mother wanted, would save me from squeamish patients,” she says, her hands feather-light on the back of Link’s head. She closes the slit in his skin with two fingers, using her other hand to dig into the pocket of her lab coat. “Unfortunately,” she says, Rhett looking away as she pops open a tube of superglue with her teeth, “this is the only way we have to repair minor cuts at the moment. We are working on a number of things, Rhett, such as giving our companions the ability to regrow damaged skin. However, as yours does not have this yet…I’m sorry to say that medical grade skin glue is the best we can do today.” 

“Uh,” Rhett replies weakly, head hanging low and hands planted on his knees. He doesn’t look up until Stevie declares it safe, fluffing Link’s hair to cover the slit in his skin. 

“I have to say,” Stevie says, leaning against the examination table and folding her arms over her chest, “if your companion takes well to this, I would very much like to keep working with you two.”

“Yeah?” Rhett asks. His head still spins a bit too wildly for him to form coherent thoughts, but Stevie laughs and nods anyway.

“Yes,” she says. “I like you. He obviously adores you, and you, him. I’ve yet to see such a…” She pauses, in search of the right words to say. “Such an equal partnership between a man and his companion. It’s very nice to see. However, before I wake him up, I want to tell you something else.” 

“What’s that?” Rhett asks, uncomfortable under Stevie’s cool, steely gaze. 

“It’s pretty unorthodox,” she says. 

“What is?”

“The affection you two have for each other,” Stevie says. “This is a very special little robot you have here.” 

Rhett starts at Stevie’s casual usage of the same term of endearment that crosses Rhett’s mind every time he looks at Link. He makes a strange, strangled sound instead of forming a real reply, and again, Stevie smiles. 

“You have a strong bond, and that’s good,” she says. “But I just want to caution you, if you don’t mind the intrusion.” She pauses to give Rhett time to stop her. When he doesn’t say anything, she goes on. “It’s very easy to lose yourself when you’re in love, Rhett,” she says. “I believe your robot is head over heels in love with you, and I don’t blame you for feeling the same love for him. But, at the end of the day, he is a machine. I hope you know I’m saying this with your best interests at heart, but I want you to be careful. Especially now that your companion will have much more complex, deep feelings towards you and the rest of the world. If any harm comes to your companion, be it in mind or body, our work on the emotional augmentation experiment could come grinding to a halt. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Yeah,” Rhett grunts, feeling small and unsure in the wake of Stevie’s harsh words. “Be careful with him because if I break him, it’ll mess with your research. Got it. Don’t worry about it.” He’s short with her and she frowns, tapping her fingernails on her elbows. 

“I’ve offended you,” she says in the end, uncrossing and crossing her arms again. “I’m sorry. I just want this program to be successful. I want our companions to be as good as they can be, to keep improving until they are equal to humans in every way. To see you already treating your companion as an equal instead of a follower, a subservient…it gives me hope and it worries me. There’s only so much your companion can give you, Rhett, whether we augment and shape his emotions or not. Do you understand?” She implores him to get it, to see where she’s coming from, but all at once, Rhett doesn’t feel much like talking. He nods. 

“Yeah,” he says, just to fill the ensuing silence. “Yes, I get it.” 

“The companions are fragile, Rhett,” Stevie says. “Just as fragile as you.” 

Whatever she means, Rhett doesn’t ask. All he wants is Link back, new and improved. He pushes off from the wall when Stevie walks to the front of the table to stand before Link, dainty hands on his knees. 

“How do you wake him up?” Rhett asks, stepping into place at her side. 

She gives him a sideways glance, the professionalism gone for a moment as her eyes sparkle impishly. “You’re going to like this trick,” she says. “Stand back a little bit.” 

Rhett obliges as Stevie moves her hand to the back of Link’s right knee. She curls her fingers into the underside of his knee, cocks an eyebrow at Rhett, and digs her fingers in. Link’s reaction is immediate, his eyes flying open and his leg shooting out like a kid getting their reflexes tested.

“Oh!” he cries, wide awake all at once. His blue eyes land on Stevie and then slide past her to search for Rhett. When Link finds him, those eyes go wide. “Oh!” he says again. “Oh, oh, Rhett!” He claps his hands over his mouth, completely overwhelmed, eyes going wider by the second. Once they look like they could pop out of his head, Rhett takes a step forward to drop one hand to Link’s knee in the same spot Stevie’s was a moment ago. 

“Link!” Rhett replies. Stevie hovers at Rhett’s side with curiosity and excitement practically pouring out of her as she watches Link expectantly. Rhett feels much the same. “Link, how do you feel?”

Slowly, agonizingly so, Link lowers his hands. They scrabble for Rhett’s, their fingers tangling up, and Link’s face breaks into the most dazzling smile Rhett has ever seen. “Oh, _Rhett_ ,” Link all but sighs, beatific and beaming. “Oh, Rhett, you cannot _imagine_ how _happy_ I am to see you. You can’t imagine how this feels.”

“I probably can,” Rhett laughs, feeling weak with relief that this is still the same Link, his Link, and nothing has changed. Nothing except the ferocity with which loves, that is, and he proves it by throwing his arms around Rhett’s neck, utterly heedless. Rhett chokes, arms winding around Link, stepping closer to stand between Link’s knees. 

“Oh, Rhett, I feel so _much_ ,” Link crows, his lips at Rhett’s ear. “Oh, this is…this is amazing. This is wonderful. Oh, Rhett, _thank you_.”

“Don’t thank me,” Rhett gasps as Link tightens his hold on him. “Thank the doctor.” 

Link pulls out of the tight embrace to reach for Stevie, his arms open wide. To Rhett’s surprise, a very giggly and pink-cheeked Stevie accepts the hug. She’s laughing hard when she pulls away, tears brimming over in her eyes. She fights to get control of herself, to pull the professionalism back out of thin air, and it takes her a long while. Link spends the time she takes to stop laughing staring at Rhett with his mouth hanging open to a comical degree. 

“What?” Rhett asks. He could burst with joy, Link looking at him with such tenderness and love that it makes everything beyond Link’s eyes look foggy and gray. He, too, fights to stop grinning and to get control of his thrumming heart. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Link says, hands going back to cover his mouth. “I’m feeling a million things at once. I can’t possibly say them all. But oh, I want to. I want to tell you everything.” 

“You can give it a try,” Stevie says, slowly gaining her composure back. She scoops a clipboard off the side table in the corner of the room and digs in her pockets for a pen. “What do you say? Want to tell me how you feel?” 

Link’s eyes flicker to Rhett, and he gives Link a look he hopes conveys _the choice is yours_. 

“I can try,” Link says. His legs swing lackadaisically as he chews at his lip, nerves taking over him. Rhett is almost sure he can see each and every emotion in Link’s eyes as they pass through him one by one. Fear is followed by surety, and surety by panic. Panic is chased with glee, and glee with hysteria. Link is too excited to focus on only one emotion, his hands back over his face, the jittering of his knees getting faster as he thinks. 

“Take all the time you need,” Stevie says, offering Link a chance to gather his thoughts. 

“No, I don’t need more time,” Link says. “I just…I am not quite sure how to articulate how _full_ I feel. Is this…is this how you feel all the time, Rhett? So conflicted? I feel so happy. _Happy_ is the first thing I feel. But under that, I’m scared. I’ve never…oh, Rhett.” Link buries his face in his hands and Rhett goes to him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. When he squeezes, Link peeks at Rhett through splayed fingers. “Hi,” Link says. 

“Hi,” Rhett replies. 

“I almost feel like I’m seeing you for the first time.” 

Rhett can hear Stevie scribbling on her clipboard behind him, but he doesn’t care. All he can see is Link’s eyes, Link peering at him through his fingers. “Yeah?” Rhett asks. “And how does that feel?”

“I’m scared,” Link admits. His voice is muffled by his palms, his eyes narrowing behind his fingers. “Rhett, I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Stevie says. At the reminder of her presence, Link starts, dropping his hands to his lap. “What you’re feeling is simple human emotion. It’s what we feel all the time. I can imagine it takes some getting used to. Fear, is that what you said? That’s the first thing you feel?” 

“No,” Link replies. “The first thing is happiness. And then…I think it’s love.”

At that, silence falls. Stevie stops scribbling at the same time Rhett’s breath hitches in his throat. Link looks at him, eyes bright, curious, and burning so hotly Rhett thinks he could catch on fire. 

“Love,” Rhett chokes. 

“Yes,” Link replies. “If this is how you have felt towards me this whole time…if you have been able to hold this inside…you are so much stronger than I thought. This is…I won’t ever be able to hold this back from you. It’s too much. It…oh, Rhett, it almost _hurts_ , how much love I feel.” 

“Welcome to humanity, darling,” Stevie teases, eliciting an almost hysterical burst of laughter from Rhett. He feels like crying, like scooping Link up off the table and spinning him around. He feels like kissing him, like declaring his love. But they are not alone and now is not the time. Stevie’s fingers brush Rhett’s back and he steps obligingly out of the way so she can examine Link. She asks him for an itemized list of what he feels and Link stammers his way through it, nerves like he has never felt before restricting his words. He struggles to answer, fidgeting with his hands in his lap, and Rhett is thankful for Stevie’s patience as she waits for Link to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” Link says after stuttering his way through the word _excited_. “I’m just very afraid. I didn’t know it felt quite like this, being afraid. And I can’t help but be…afraid of it.” He gives a sheepish little smile and Stevie nods, giving him a reassuring smile in return. “I’m sorry if I’m not helping you,” he says. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Stevie replies. She stops taking notes, tucks her pen behind her ear, places her clipboard on the table beside Link, and crosses her arms. “What do you say we let you go home, Link? Testing can wait for another day. Can you help us if we come to do a follow up visit with you? Would that make you more comfortable?”

“Oh, yes,” Link says with an enthusiastic nod. “I can help you later. Right now, I’m afraid I’m a little overwhelmed.” He glances at Rhett, who hovers with his knuckles in his mouth behind Stevie. Rhett lowers his hand to mouth _you’re okay_ , and Link’s face breaks into a grin. “Could I please go home, then?” he asks. “I promise I will be more help once I work out all these feelings.”

“Of course,” Stevie replies. She stands back to let Link hop off the table and then leads the way back to her office. She rummages through her desk drawers and pulls out a spiral notebook and a pen. “If I give these to you, would you be able to write down what you feel and when you feel it? It would help us a great deal.” 

“Yes,” Link chirps. “Yes, I can do that.” He holds out both hands and Stevie presses the notebook into them. Link draws the notebook to his chest and beams, beautiful and glowing. Rhett feels like he is seeing Link for the first time, too. Link has never looked so at peace, so happy, so alive. He bubbles over with excitement, bouncing up and down where he sits. It’s all Rhett can do to keep from throwing both arms around Link and holding him close. He has the feeling he won’t be able to resist the urge once he and Link are alone, but for the moment, he manages to keep his hands and his joy to himself. 

Stevie leads Rhett and his little robot back out to the waiting room, pauses to shake Rhett’s hand again, and takes one of Link’s hands in both her own. She looks sternly at him, her chin pointed up so she can look him in the eye. “Thank you,” she says. “All the information we get from you is going to be an amazing asset. We’re always striving to be better, as I know you are too, and together we’re going to keep working towards making the most lifelike companions we can.” 

“He’s been perfectly lifelike from the moment he stepped through my front door,” Rhett says. He can’t help but bristle the smallest bit, as if Link needs protecting from the girl holding onto his hand. But Link is still smiling, a beacon of light, and he tells Stevie it’s his pleasure to be able to help. 

On the way to the car, Link’s hand slips into Rhett’s. For the time being, Rhett lets it be. 

“Fell,” Link says as he buckles his seatbelt, an impish grin on his face. 

“What?” Rhett asks. 

“I didn’t step through your front door,” Link says. “I fell.” 

Rhett looks at his little robot, Link’s smile dazzling him in its brightness. “You did,” he says. Despite his better judgement, Rhett goes on, giving Link one more good thing before he has to break his heart. “And yanno what, Link? So did I.” 

 

Link is barely through Rhett’s front door when he whoops with joy and throws himself into Rhett’s arms. Rhett scoops him up, unable to do anything else but hold on tight, and Link smothers Rhett’s face in kisses. 

“Oh, Rhett!” he crows with a kiss between Rhett’s eyes. “Oh, Rhett, thank you!” 

“Anything for you,” Rhett reminds him. Rhett is going to have to tell Link the truth, that first and foremost, Link’s happiness matters the most to him. But Rhett is scared and Rhett can’t keep hurting like this, wanting and wishing and hoping for something real. He needs time and he needs to give Link time of his own, time to grow and learn all there is to know about what he’s just been given. Rhett stumbles, tumbling with Link in his lap onto the loveseat. Before Rhett can draw breath to speak, Link’s mouth covers his own. It’s a sweet kiss, full of things Link has not been able to say yet, but Rhett’s head is spinning and he can’t quite find a way to make it stop. 

For a moment, for a minute, he kisses Link back. Link giggles into each kiss he presses to Rhett’s lips, elated and giddy. Rhett can’t take this moment away from him. But he can’t sit here accepting kiss after kiss when there’s so many things he has to say. When Rhett places his hands on Link’s chest to give himself room, Link pauses. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Link, I…” Rhett falters. It’s not so easy when Link is everything Rhett has waited for, for all the years he has spent alone. It’s not so easy when Link is beautiful, breathtaking, and beaming in Rhett’s lap. “Link, there’s something I have to tell you.” 

Link looks at him, Rhett’s face held in his hands. “What is it?” 

Rhett says it all at once to keep from losing his nerve. His hands flexing on Link’s hips, he says, “This all happened so fast, Link. And I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the very last thing I wanna do. But I feel like…I feel I’m disappearing, Link, and I’m dragging you down with me. I think we should…we might have to take a step back. Until you get what you’re looking for and until I know myself a little better. I just want you to get used to your new feelings, Link, and I don’t want to be in your way. Do you get what I’m saying?” 

Head cocked to the side, brow furrowed, Link pauses. “No,” he says, drawing it out and tapering off. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes, Link, when people aren’t happy and they love someone like…like I love you, they need to think less about the person they love and more about themselves, at least for a while. So they can get better, and they can be better for the person they love. Do you understand that?”

“You’re not happy,” Link whispers, his shoulders sagging and his fingers digging into the soft spots behind Rhett’s ears. 

“I’m happy when I’m with you, Link,” Rhett breathes back. This hurts worse than he expected, the horror dawning on Link’s face, the fingernails on his skin. 

“But only then,” Link surmises, defeated. 

“Yes,” Rhett admits. “Only then.” 

Link leans back, hands sliding down to cup the sides of Rhett’s neck. Held carefully between Link’s hands, Rhett feels as fragile as glass. For his part, Link looks like he is feeling much the same. 

“What do you want me to do, Rhett?” Link asks, voice timid. “Ask me and I’ll do anything to keep you happy.”

“That’s the thing,” Rhett says. “I want you to be happy, too. And I’ll do absolutely anything in the world to give you the happiness you deserve. But I just can’t…oh, Link.” Rhett gives up for the moment, wraps his arms around Link’s middle, and buries his face in the crook of Link’s neck. Link makes a soft noise of surprise, but he recovers quickly. He cards both hands through Rhett’s hair and coos, hands gentle and slow. 

“Oh, Rhett, it’s okay,” Link says. “If you’re not happy with me in any way, I want to fix it. Oh, don’t cry, please don’t cry, I couldn’t take it if you cried.” 

Rhett looks up, dragged from his self-pity by the worry making Link’s voice high and thin. Link looks back at him, holding him tight by the hair. “I’m sorry,” Rhett breathes. He’s too busy thinking about how the hell he’s going to keep his hands off Link and his heart to himself, and while he spirals, Link is suffering. He’s learning the limits of his new emotions and Rhett needs to be present. This could ruin them, this could ruin Link, and what the hell is Rhett doing? He’s feeling sorry for himself, the same man who has been doing the same thing for fifteen years. 

Link needs him and Rhett needs to pull himself together for now, if not for good. 

“What are you sorry for?” Link asks. He presses his forehead to Rhett’s and seems to think better of it, drawing away enough to let Rhett breathe. With the new space, Rhett wants nothing more than for it to close. But Link is pulling away from him, climbing off his lap to sit beside him instead. Link folds himself up on the loveseat, knees to his chest and chin to his knees, looking at Rhett like he waits for his next move. His eyes burn a hole in Rhett, but Rhett can’t look away. 

“I’m sorry I need you so badly,” Rhett says, admitting it for the first time in so many words. “Link, how are you feeling? Are you okay? I’m sorry I’m such a goddamn mess.” 

“Rhett, if you need me to…to be your friend and nothing more, for you, I will do it.” Link surprises Rhett by saying exactly what he needs to hear. There’s pain in Link’s eyes, buried deep beneath something a little less dark. On the surface, Link exudes concern, one hand still curled protectively in Rhett’s hair and his cerulean eyes tender and cool. Rhett has the feeling he isn’t supposed to be seeing the pain that Link tries to hide. It seems Link is already an expert at one thing entirely human: he hides his true feelings for the person he loves. But Rhett doesn’t want that. He wants Link to explore, to feel the things he feels without having to hide it. He wants Link to thrive. Unable to help and scared to try, Rhett looks up into Link’s face and tries to formulate the perfect thing to say. 

What comes out is, “Thank you.” After that, they don’t talk for a while. When Link reaches across the silence between them with his other hand in search of an anchor, Rhett provides it with his own hands. They lock fingers and hold on tight; what’s a little skin on skin between two beings in need of comfort? 

When it’s time for bed, nothing resolved and nothing discussed, Rhett heads into his room and leaves Link in the hallway. When Rhett changes his mind, Link is still there, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Link, please share my bed with me,” Rhett says. 

“Are you sure?” Link asks.

“I’m sure.” 

In bed, Link cradled close to Rhett’s chest, he traces lazy patterns in Rhett’s skin with his fingertips. “I’m sorry that I need you too,” he says, so softly Rhett can pretend not to have heard it if he wants to. But he doesn’t. 

“It’s okay, Link,” Rhett replies. “We’re gonna figure this out.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” 

Link goes quiet, drawing aimlessly on Rhett’s chest with timid fingers. It takes Rhett a long, long time to realize Link is telling him a story, tracing letters on Rhett’s skin. Without saying a word, Rhett listens, letting Link tell the whole thing, start to finish. 

_I love you_ , the story begins. After a pause, the story continues. _You hold my heart_ , Link paints with his fingers. The last thing he says before Rhett breaks and catches his hand nearly tears Rhett’s heart in two. _Here for you_ , Link writes. Rhett stills him, one hand over Link’s, and tells him to stop. 

“What’s wrong?” Link asks. 

“Don’t power off tonight, please,” Rhett says. _I need to feel safe while I sleep_. He doesn’t tell Link what he’s thinking, but Link gets the message. _In the morning, it will be better_. In the morning, Rhett will sit Link down and ask him what he’s feeling, how he’s doing, if he’s adjusting to the change. Rhett will treat him better, treat him well, and Rhett will shower him in all the love he can give without falling apart. What’s a little love between two beings who need a lot of it? 

“You want me to stay awake with you?” Link asks. 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. “Could you?”

Link pauses before echoing to Rhett what Rhett has been saying to him all along. “Anything for you,” he says. To that, Rhett has nothing to say. Holding onto Link, one hand over the hand Link has on his heart, Rhett falls into an uneasy sleep. He dreams of darkness, of the void Link helped him escape reaching out for him, trying to drag him back in. When he wakes with a start in the middle of the night, Link proves true to his word and is there to comfort him. 

“Shh,” Link says. “I’m here.” He waits for Rhett to stop shaking, to almost drift off, before asking him, “Do you always have such terrible dreams?” 

“No,” Rhett says. Exhaustion and residual panic make Rhett’s tongue loose and he tells the truth. “Not since I’ve had you.” 

“Is it my fault you’re having them again, then?” 

“No,” Rhett says again. “Nothing is your fault, Link. It’s all mine.” 

He is almost asleep again before Link asks, voice impossibly small and afraid, “Is this how you always feel, Rhett? The way I feel right now?”

Without having to ask him how he feels, Rhett knows. “Yes,” he says. “Always.”

The last thing Rhett hears before letting sleep have him again is Link whispering an apology. _Tomorrow I will tell him he doesn’t have to be sorry for anything_ , Rhett tells himself. But for now, he lets it be. He lets it go. And he lets Link think there are things that he has done wrong. What’s a little sorrow between two beings brimming over with enough to share between a hundred? 

 

In the morning, it is better. Rhett makes sure of it. When he wakes up, Link is still there. The first thing Rhett does after opening his eyes is search Link’s face. He looks for pain, for uncertainty, for fear, but all he sees is bliss. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Link says. He props himself up on one elbow to look at Rhett, bubbling over with too much joy for this early in the morning. 

“What did you call me?” Rhett asks, voice thick and garbled with sleep. 

“Sweetheart,” Link replies. “You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s just…you’ve never called me anything but my name before.”

“You call me things besides my name all the time,” Link says. “Would you prefer it if I didn’t do the same?” Concern starts to bloom in his eyes and Rhett reaches out to brush a lock of raven hair behind his ear. 

“You can call me whatever you like,” Rhett replies. What’s a term of endearment or two between a little robot and the man he yearns to love? The idea of love hits Rhett like a train, his heart seizing up, and he asks Link a question before he can lose his nerve. “Link, do you still feel the same way about me? Do you still…love me like you did before?” 

“Oh, Rhett, I thought you’d never ask.” 

“Is that a yes?”

“No!” Link says. He ducks his head as if to brush a kiss across Rhett’s cheek, but at the last second, he remembers and pauses with his lips inches from Rhett’s face. “No, it’s so much more. I didn’t know before, but I was loving you through a frosted pane of glass. An insurmountable obstacle, like a lock with no key, was put between us. Now, I feel like my love for you could help me _fly_.”

“Ah,” Rhett sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Link replies. “I can wait forever for you, Rhett. If it takes you that long, I’ll still be here to love you. If you can’t come back to me until I’m human? I’ll do everything in my power to get myself there for you. I’d give up everything inside me, every last bit of machinery. I would trade it all for a lifetime with you.”

“Link, don’t talk like that. Humans die. I’m gonna die someday. You know that, right? And if you don’t have any machinery left inside you, so will you.”

Link nods like he thought this over all night, like the allure of growing old and dying is too glittery and beautiful to risk losing. “Yes,” he says. 

“When did you get all weird and romantic on me?” Rhett asks with a hollow chuckle. He’s falling deeper by the second, deeper into the wide eyes looking back into his. A part of him screams _damn the promises you’ve made. Kiss him. Love him. Hold him_. It screams orders at Rhett as Link watches over him, hardly blinking as if Rhett might vanish if Link’s eyes are closed for too long. The smarter part of Rhett’s brain reminds him _now would be a good time to pull away. Whatever you do, don’t hurt him_. At least both parts of Rhett’s brain work together to keep Link happy. No matter how cacophonously the two halves bicker, desire and loneliness fighting martyrdom and self-preservation, both halves agree on one thing: Link is going to remain unscathed as long as Rhett can manage. 

“I suppose it was right around the time I realized how it truly felt to look into your eyes and see all the love I feel for you reflected back times a hundred.” Link’s response scares the hell out of Rhett and fight-or-flight kicks in, Rhett reminding his little robot he has to go to work today and face the real world for a while. As little as he wants to, getting out of the house and talking to people will probably be good for Rhett. He needs all the interaction he can get, all the humanity and all the troubles that come with it. He needs to get his head on as straight as his tie as he fixes it in the mirror, intent on making a good impression for once. Rhett catches Link watching him in the bathroom mirror, reaching out like he wants to help Rhett fix up his shirt and tie, but when Rhett spots him looking, Link backs away. 

_You’re hurting him._

Rhett can’t think of any way to fix this, to make it better, but once he gets into his car and gets ready to pull out of the driveway, he thinks better of it. He dashes back inside, scoops Link into his arms, and whispers, “Thank you for waiting for me.” He sounds utterly breathless and desperate even to himself, but he is so grateful for Link’s patience that he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Anything for you,” Link coos, surprised by the embrace, his arms by his sides. When Rhett pulls away, Link looks dazed. 

With no time to apologize, no time to fix anything, Rhett leaves Link alone. 

 

Rhett is busy catching up on his workload when a rap of knuckles on the side of his cubicle startles him into spilling the last of his coffee across his desk. 

“What?” he calls to whoever hovers behind him, sopping up coffee with tissues from the box by his computer. 

“You look like hell, man,” Alex replies. Rhett is sure that Alex is the absolute last person he wants to see, but a second voice chiming in changes his mind.

“Yeah, did you bring any weird diseases to the office?” Mike adds. Rhett draws a breath, already losing his patience with the two people who never seem to have anything better to do than antagonize him. 

“Or are you having relationship troubles?” Alex chimes in. And that’s enough. Rhett stands, turns to face the two men in his cubicle, and towers over them, both men shrinking back. 

“Listen,” Rhett says. “I’ve had enough of the smartass remarks. I’ve had enough of you two giggling with your heads together like gossiping teenagers. You need to stay the hell out of my business, stay the hell out of my cubicle, and get the _hell_ out of my face before I make you regret it.” His imposing height and his balled up fists make both men take another quick step back in tandem like a two headed monster. “Do you hear me? If you don’t leave me the hell alone, I’m…”

“You’re what?” a new voice asks, and Rhett’s boss joins Mike and Alex, clapping one hand on each of their shoulders. The two of them jump a foot in the air, shock crossing their features, and Rhett feels a surge of satisfaction. It doesn’t last long, his boss staring him down, and when his eyes travel down to Rhett’s tight fists, he arches an eyebrow. “Is there something I should know about?” he asks. 

“No,” Rhett says before his two shell-shocked coworkers can say anything. “We’re fine here.” 

“Are we?” 

Mike regards Rhett for a moment, eyes narrow, but in the end, he spares him. “We’re fine,” Mike says. “Just a little friendly teasing, that’s all.” 

“Yeah,” Rhett echoes. “Friendly.” 

“Good,” the boss says, smacking Mike and Alex on each of their shoulders before backing away. “Keep it that way.” 

The moment he is out of earshot, Alex speaks up. He elbows Mike conspiratorially and says, “You know, violent tendencies are a telltale sign of sexual repression.” He laughs and Mike joins in, the two of them never knowing when to stop. But Rhett does. Rhett knows when he’s had enough. He doesn’t think when he pulls back, tucks his thumb against his palm, and punches Alex between the eyes. 

The uproar is instantaneous. One moment there is quiet and in the next, the office erupts into chaos, starting with Alex hitting the floor and ending with Rhett shaking out his aching fist as he’s dragged out of the office by his elbow. Security has nothing on Rhett, no stronger than him, but Rhett lets himself be led out into the lobby of his office building and scolded like a snarling dog. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” the boss asks, chasing Rhett out into the sunlight as he throws security off his arm. His hand throbbing and head spinning, Rhett does nothing but throw up his arms. Standing in front of the building, Rhett is acutely aware of all the faces looking down at him from every floor. People mill to the windows to watch the scene unfold, and Rhett puts on a hell of a show. 

“I was thinking I’m tired of being harassed,” Rhett says. He takes a step closer to his boss and the man backpedals, hands out like Rhett might try to hit him next. “Every goddamn day they’re on me. It’s a fuckin’ miracle I’ve lasted this long!” Rhett wrestles with his tie as it threatens to strangle him, ripping open the top button of his shirt to get some air. “I’m _tired_ of this,” Rhett says. He’s not talking about his coworkers anymore and he’s not talking about work. He’s talking about everything, his life, and all the things he can’t get a grip on. And everyone stands still to watch him fall apart. 

“Rhett, why don’t you take the day off,” his boss suggests. Rhett throws his hands over his face and growls, scaring himself just as much as he scares his cowering boss. 

“Yeah,” Rhett says. “Sure. While I’m at it, I’m just gonna go ahead and quit. All right? I can’t take this anymore. Thanks for all the _wonderful_ years.” Without waiting for an answer, his head pounding as painfully as his hand, Rhett turns on his heels and walks away. His shoulders are tense enough to hurt all the way down his spine as he walks, every step sending shooting pain up his spine. But he has had enough. He has been in over his head for a long, long time. It’s only when Rhett peels out of the parking lot and turns the car towards home that he lets himself scream. He hits the steering wheel hard enough to set off the horn, the harsh sound cracking through the morning air like thunder. The person in the car in front of him throws one arm up in question and Rhett tries to get ahold of himself for long enough to stop pounding recklessly at the wheel. His hand is broken, he can feel it, and he pulls a U-turn at the next light to head to the hospital. 

By the time he gets back in the car, three fingers on his left hand bandaged up and splinted together, Rhett is calm enough to take in a deep, painful breath. 

_Get ahold of yourself._

No matter how many times he tells himself to be better, to get better, he never seems to get there. Rhett makes the short drive home and idles in the driveway, dreading the smile and kind words with which Link will greet him. He doesn’t deserve them. He pushed Link away, he tried and failed to be human, he threw a punch, and he deserves to feel this way. The only thing that gets Rhett to climb out of the car and go inside is the living room curtain shifting as Link pulls it back. Without any other choice, Rhett goes inside. 

“You’re early,” Link says, worry lighting up his eyes. 

“I quit,” Rhett replies. He looks at Link and Link looks back at him, both of them sizing each other up. Rhett doesn’t know whether he should throw his arms around Link or ask Link to hold him instead. The longer he watches Link watching him, the more Rhett is sure that the last thing he wants is to make the panic in Link’s eyes rise. He reaches out and Link steps into his arms. 

“Your hand…” Link says as Rhett’s injured fingers come in contact with Link’s back. 

“I punched someone,” Rhett says. 

“You did?”

“Yes.”

For a while, Link is quiet. In the silence, Rhett props his chin up on the top of Link’s head. Link’s voice is muffled by Rhett’s chest when he says, “I didn’t know you were hurting so badly, Rhett.”

“I didn’t know you were, either.”

“Forget about me for a second,” Link says. “Rhett, please. I can feel you now. I can feel everything you feel. And it hurts. Please, Rhett. I know you’re scared. But let me take care of you. Can you do that for me?” 

“Take care of me?”

“Yes. Let me do something for you, please. Anything. I can’t stand to see you like this. You didn’t warn me, Rhett, that it would hurt this badly to feel what you feel.” 

“I should have.”

“Don’t worry, Rhett. I can deal with it. Just let me do something good for you. Please.” 

Rhett concedes. 

Link lights the candles left over from Christmas and pulls down the shades in Rhett’s bedroom. He orders Rhett to sit and then, with deft fingers, he frees Rhett from his shirt and tie. In the dark, all Rhett can see of his little robot is a pair of gleaming eyes and candlelight reflecting off his glasses. Link asks Rhett to get into bed, lying on his stomach, and when Rhett obliges, Link climbs in after him and straddles his thighs. 

“Relax,” Link says, his hands landing lightly on Rhett’s shoulders. “Don’t think. Just let me do this one thing for you. Please.” 

Weakly, Rhett nods. As Link begins to knead the tension from his shoulders, from his neck, from along his spine, Rhett gets even weaker. He lets Link fight against every knot and every sore spot, fighting to make Rhett better. He doesn’t tell Link the effort is fruitless. It feels too good to have Link’s hands on him, cool and strong and sure. They shake, just a little, and Rhett doesn’t mention it. Link has to know. 

As the candles flicker and waver, the room bathed in soft golden light, Rhett feels like flickering and wavering himself. Link leans in and begins to follow each brush of his fingers with a brush of his lips, not quite kissing, just touching his lips to Rhett’s skin. It’s electric, the motion of Link, and Rhett goes boneless as Link’s hands and his mouth travel further and further down. In the divot at the bottom of Rhett’s spine, Link gives him the softest, gentlest kiss. And it’s all over after that. Rhett loves him, he loves him to hell and back, and what the hell is wrong with that? 

(Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow he will set himself straight.)

Rhett rolls over and pulls Link close. Link lays still on top of Rhett, heavy and every bit of comfort Rhett needs. “What are you feeling right now?” Rhett whispers as Link presses his ear to Rhett’s chest in search of his heart. 

“The same thing you are.”

“Which is?”

Link pauses, face buried in the crook of Rhett’s neck, his hands seeking purchase on Rhett’s shoulders. “Loved,” he says. “Just loved.” 

 

In the middle of the day on a Wednesday, Rhett’s job search on pause as he gathers himself back together, Rhett and Link sit side by side on the loveseat. Rhett asked for Stevie to wait, to come see Link next week, and blessedly, she agreed without pressing the issue. (The strain in Rhett’s voice probably had something to do with it.) It’s raining, and the pleasant sound of raindrops pattering on the roof has Rhett feeling content and warm. There’s space between Rhett’s socked feet and Link’s, but not much. In the empty space between them, Rhett lays his broken hand palm up. Every once in a while, Link tickles his palm with shaky fingers, but he draws them away before too long. 

The next movie on the list of one thousand is _Pinocchio_. Rhett hasn’t seen it since he was a kid, sitting in front of the tiny living room TV with his brother. He has only the vaguest memories of the plot, the songs, the characters. Link watches the movie with wide eyes, his lip between his teeth. And it takes Rhett far too long to realize this was a terrible idea. Link has far too much in common with the titular character of the movie. Pinocchio carries the same wants as Link, the same hope of someday being something more. Rhett should have known better. But by the time Rhett moves to pause the movie, it’s too late, the animated puppet voicing his desire to be real. Link’s hand stills in its search of Rhett’s. His body locks up, his eyes on the frozen screen. And slowly, his shoulders begin to quake. 

The sound that escapes Link as he begins to cry is like nothing Rhett has ever heard. It’s a squeak, it’s a whimper, and then the dam breaks. Link shudders, shoulders hitching, his whole body shaking with unshed tears. Without the ability to cry, Link’s mechanical body can’t work around the strange new sensation. 

“Oh no,” Link whimpers, and then he is gone. He buries his face in his hands and he cries, rough and terrible noises coming from somewhere deep inside him. He follows every noise with a whimper of fear, his head bowing as he tries to force tears. “Ow,” he keens, voice strained and high, as if he can feel the pain of something ripping in him. Rhett’s hand landing on his thigh goes unnoticed. Still, Rhett keeps it there, to tie Link down if nothing else. The sounds get louder, Link choking on nothing, struggling against everything his mechanical body tells him. 

Rhett can’t do anything but wait. 

He tries, his hands on Link’s knees, his sides, his shoulders. He tries to pry Link’s hands from his face, to make Link look at him, to kiss his cheeks. But Link shudders against him, body tensed up, sobs making him shake. 

“Link, hey, hey, it’s okay.” It’s futile, Link unresponsive to everything Rhett tries. “Link, listen, you’re okay, I’m here. I’m here, there’s nothing to cry about. You’re real. Hey, you’re real enough for me. You’re beautiful, you’re perfect, you’re everything. Link, please look at me. Hey, look at me.” 

Link does nothing but cry. 

He wails, the sound sharp and all too real. It sounds realer than real human tears, the sound of Link’s crying not thickened by a stuffy nose and a clogged up throat. It sounds like an imagined version of crying, a version in which there are no tears to be shed, and when trying to get to Link proves useless, Rhett finds himself with a very real version of tears on his cheeks. He cries with Link, his heart breaking, the two of them facing one another on the loveseat. Rhett has his hands in Link’s hair and Link has his over his face, hiding from Rhett as he sobs. 

_You did this to him._

Rhett wanted to give Link peace; he wanted to give Link happiness. Instead, he gave Link the desire to cry but not the ability. All he gave was something new for Link to wish he had. Cursing himself, brushing Link’s hair back with both hands, Rhett makes up his mind. 

He’s going to ask for more. 

“Link, hey, why don’t you power down until you feel better?” Finally, miserably, Rhett breaks through. Link’s shoulders hitch as he peeks through his fingers, shaking hard enough to rattle his teeth in his head. 

“P-p-p-power d-down?” Link cries. “Th-th-that’s what you w-w-want?”

“Please, Link,” Rhett says. He fights to keep his face straight and his hands from shaking as he nods. “For your own good, please. You’re gonna shiver yourself to shreds.”

“N-n-no, Rhett, I’m f-f-f-fine!” Link replies. He lowers his hands to prove himself decidedly _not_ fine, his face tight and his chin quivering. Every part of his body works against him, trying to cry without knowing how. It looks painful, gut wrenching, and Rhett can’t help him. So he says it again. 

“Power down, Link. Everything’s gonna be okay when you wake up. Set an alarm for morning, okay? And I will be there holdin’ onto you. I promise.” Rhett’s own shaky resolve betrays him and he bites back a sob to echo Link’s. This is too hard. Surely he’s been through enough pain for ten lifetimes. Surely there has to be something good waiting on the other side of this. It’s just hard to see through the pain on Link’s face, that’s all. 

“Okay,” Link says. “Okay.” He closes his eyes, face going slack, and within seconds, he is gone to the world. Rhett lays him back on the loveseat and covers him with a blanket, the stillness of Link’s limbs as unsettling and terrifying as it has always been. 

“I’m sorry,” Rhett says. And because Link can’t hear him and because it’s God’s honest truth, Rhett adds one more thing. “I love you.” 

He makes a phone call, he waits on hold, he drums his fingers on the counter (Link’s favorite spot) as lousy music plays down the line. By the time someone picks up, Rhett is ready to scream. 

“ABT Research Lab, Raleigh,” a cheerful voice says. 

“Hey,” Rhett replies, halfway cutting off the greeting. He gets right to it. “Listen, I know this is ridiculous. I know I’m going all _Fisherman and his Wife_ on you. But I need one thing. Just one more thing.”

“ _Fisherman and his Wife_?” the perplexed ABT Inc. employee echoes. “What do you mean?”

“A man catches a fish, it’s a magic goddamn fish, and the man sets it free.” Rhett is tired to the bone but he recounts the tale anyway, sure there is a lesson in there somewhere meant for him. But he doesn’t care. At the moment, he couldn’t care less about morals and fables. “The man gets home and his wife tells him to go back to the fish and get a wish for setting it free. She wants a bigger house, more land. She orders the fisherman to go. And he does. Only, the wife’s not happy, you see. She wants more. So, she sends the fisherman back and back and back to the fish, asking for bigger and better things. And every time the man goes back to the sea, the sea and the fish are angrier. But he keeps getting what he asks for. And in the end? Oh, in the end the wife asks to be equal to God. And you know what the fish does?” 

“No…” the employee replies. 

“He gives them back exactly what they had before and makes them live with that.”

“Ah,” the employee says. 

“Now, am I the wife in this equation, and you’re the fish?” 

“Sir, I don’t quite…”

“Look, is Doctor Levine in? I need to talk to her.” 

Sounding anxious and a little bit scared, the employee transfers Rhett’s call. Stevie answers on the first ring. “Rhett?” she says the moment she hears him, his voice clogged with tears. 

“I need you to help me, Stevie,” he says. “I need your help to help him cry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you for all the dazzling, overwhelming love and support this far. In case you don't know, you can always reach me on tumblr at [reedytenors](http://reedytenors.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> Thank you, thank you for reading and for all the kinds words thus far! It means the world!


	8. Tepid

January melts away to a lukewarm February and an ABT Inc. representative Rhett has not met yet pays a visit to check up on Link. Rhett doesn’t tell them about the crying. Stevie knows and even that is too much for him. The representative sits Link down at the kitchen table and asks him benign questions in a monotone voice as Rhett sits with his injured hand resting protectively on Link’s shoulder. If the representative thinks it strange, she does not mention it. 

“On a scale from one to ten, how satisfied are you with the upgrade?” she asks. 

“Ten,” Link says without hesitation. He is being kind and generous to the representative, but Rhett is sure he is the only one who can see the wall of unease Link hides behind. He was hurt by Rhett’s request for him to power down in the midst of his crying fit, and he has not looked at Rhett quite the same since. He understood, he said, but there was hunger in his eyes that Rhett had never seen before. The same hunger is still there now, the burning desire for _more_. He wants to feel stronger, more human. He wants all that he can get, and even more. He asks for impossible things, things not even ABT can keep up with. 

Stevie was skeptical at first of Rhett’s idea to meld machinery with something purely human; at first, she resisted and said there was no possible way to help a robot cry real tears. But she is good to Rhett and she cares for Link, so she promised to make phone call after phone call in search of anyone who can offer up their expertise. Rhett has been waiting to hear back from her, scared that she might never call him back with good news, but having someone from ABT sitting right in front of him makes him feel a little better. At least they are here. At least they are trying. 

“Can you tell me what you are feeling right now?” Link is asked, and he nods. 

“Everything I’m feeling?”

“Yes, everything.” The woman does not look up as she scribbles down Link’s answers, one after the other, her pen flying across the notepad before her. 

“Scared,” Link says. Rhett is unable to tighten the bandaged up hand he has on Link’s shoulder, so he settles for giving an awkward, gentle caress instead. Link sits up straighter in his chair to nuzzle inconspicuously into the touch. “Happy. Worried. Excited. Hopeful.” As the woman writes, Link begins to speak faster. “Impatient. Insignificant. Overwhelmed. Confused. Curious.” 

“All of that at once?” the woman asks, her pen dashing across the page. 

“Oh, yes,” Link replies. He shoves his glasses up the slope of his nose with one hand and leaves the other hand on the table. His fingers begin to drum at the wood as the woman takes her time taking notes. 

“Okay,” the representative says. “Now tell me, you say you’re overwhelmed. Do you find yourself wishing to go back to the way you were?”

“No,” Link replies immediately. 

“Do you find yourself feeling sad for long periods of time with no reason why?”

“I find myself sad, yes, and for long periods of time, yes.” At that, Rhett stiffens, but the woman does not look up at him. She does not look up at all. “But not for no reason,” Link finishes. 

“No? What reasons do you have for being sad, then?” 

Link hangs his head, just a fraction, but enough for Rhett to see. “I don’t have everything I want,” Link says. “I am very happy with my upgrade. I couldn’t be happier to…to be making progress. But there is so much you have that I don’t. And I want it all.” 

“You are sad because you want things you can’t have? Is that it?” 

“No, I believe I can have them,” Link says. “I just understand that it may take a while. I am allowed to be sad in the meantime, aren’t I?” 

Finally, the woman looks up, meeting Link’s bright blue eyes with confusion marring her brow. “I suppose,” she says. She drops her pen to look Link hard in the face. “I must say, I have never met a companion quite like you. You are fascinating. You want like I never imagined a companion could want. Your hunger for humanity is…enthralling. Books could be written about you. They could make _movies_. When I talk to you, I believe you are human. And that’s something I never expected to see.” 

Rhett cuts in. “They made a movie about a companion who wanted to be a man,” he says. “It’s called _Bicentennial Man_. He dies in the end.” He does not mean to come off so angry, so blunt, but the way the woman looks at Link sets Rhett on edge. She wants to study him, pick his artificial brain for the things that make him closer to human than machine. And Rhett wants nothing to do with it. Link is special and it doesn’t matter why; Link is _his_ and no one is going to try and pick him apart. The strange sense of possession makes Rhett as uneasy as the eyes all over Link. 

He has no more right to claim Link than this woman does, no more right than ABT has. Link, for better or for worse, is his own person. Never did he belong to Rhett, not even in the first moment they were introduced as _administrator_ and _companion_. 

Rhett feels sick and heavy as the ABT representative packs up her notes and shakes Link’s hand on her way out the door. It scares Rhett, the way the people at ABT were ready to call Link _it_ instead of _him_. But now, when they strive for the same thing, he does not feel less scared. He feels worse. There is exploitation in the way they look at Link. There is hunger to change, to shape, to augment, and to use the knowledge gained to make every companion more like Link. Rhett should have expected the churning in his stomach at the thought, but he didn’t. And now, Link looking curiously up at Rhett as he watches the woman from ABT drive away, Rhett can’t quite get a handle on all the things he fears. 

“What’s wrong?” Link asks with one hand on Rhett’s shoulder. The touches have not stopped, and neither have the long, unblinking gazes. Nothing has stopped except the _I love you_ ’s, and what the hell kind of person does that make Rhett? He feels like any other man who bought a companion; he feels like all the rest of the people who ask for nothing from their companions but someone to share a bed with. He feels dirty and wrong, asking Link to share his bed with him, but when Rhett is alone, the crushing weight of loneliness falls over him and threatens to suffocate. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he tells Link. 

“You still think I don’t see,” Link says. 

“See what?”

“When you’re trying to protect me.” 

“Link…”

“No matter what you might think, you don’t need to protect me from anything you could do to me. You’re doing so much for me, Rhett, and the fact that you think it’s not enough…”

“It’s not.”

“I can feel things I couldn’t feel before, Rhett,” Link reminds him. In the middle of the living room, Link stands with his arms wrapped around himself, as if he needs protecting more than he thinks he does. He takes a step closer to Rhett, craning his neck to look up at him. His neck creaks mechanically, and Rhett balks. 

“Yeah?” he snaps. “What can you feel, Link? Tell me, then. Because I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling, except I feel like I’m losing my mind.” 

“I’m mad at you,” Link says. The admission takes the air from Rhett’s lungs like a punch. “I’m furious with you. Because you think you’re worthless. I can see that now. Why have you always thought of yourself as someone who doesn’t deserve anything good?”

“Link…” Rhett tries to back out, to back away, but Link takes another step closer and Rhett tumbles backwards onto the loveseat. Link follows him, straddling Rhett’s lap, his hands digging into Rhett’s hair. 

“You are the most wonderful person in the world,” Link says. His furious tone does not match his words of adoration. Rhett cups Link’s hips in his hands and stares straight up into burning blue eyes. “I know I don’t know much, but I know you. When are you going to let yourself be happy, Rhett? You were so close. You were so good. But your brother…your job…my glitch…I understand that things scare you, but you have to be braver than that. You owe it to yourself, Rhett. I love you, and you haven’t said it in a long time. _I love you_ , and I know you love me. Why are you punishing yourself for loving me? Don’t you think it’s about time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself and truly moved on? Rhett, even if I can’t be the one to give that to you…I want you to be free.” 

Rhett closes his eyes. Link’s hands slide to cup his face, fingertips gentle but sure. 

“Rhett, whether you choose to get better or not, I’m here for you. It’s what I was made for. I’m meant to be at your side. What were you made for?” 

It takes Rhett a long, long time to build up the courage to say what he wants to say. His voice shakes as he exhales. “I was made to find you, I think,” he says. “And I was made to help you grow. But Link, what if to give you everything you dream about, I have to let you go?” 

The thought is what has been keeping Rhett up at night. The reason for his nightmares. He dreams of losing Link, of losing everything. Because Rhett isn’t stupid. He sees the lust in the eyes of every scientific, calculating mind who looks at Link. He sees the one thing they never explicitly say: they want to study Link, they want to find what makes him different, and they want to take him away. Rhett made a choice to show Link to the world, and now they are going to fix him, to mold him, and in the end, they are going to ask to keep him. Rhett knows it without truly knowing; he can feel it in his bones. 

They are going to ask for Link and Rhett is going to end up alone. 

Link, however, has other ideas of what it means to grow and shift and change. “You won’t ever have to let me go, Rhett,” he says. “I’m always going to be yours. Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because the world is bigger than you and me, Link,” Rhett says. “As much as I wish it wasn’t. Don’t you understand how special you are? How valuable?” 

“Valuable?” Link asks, frowning around the word. 

“You’re different, Link,” Rhett breathes. When Rhett tightens his hold on Link’s waist, Link gasps aloud. “You’re so, so special. And they want to know why.” 

“They?”

“ABT,” Rhett says. Understanding dawns on Link’s face as his mouth falls open, surprise stilling the rest of him. 

“Rhett!” Link says. “Rhett, you think they will take me away from you.” He does not ask. He sees it now, exactly what Rhett is afraid of. 

“Yes,” Rhett admits. 

“Rhett, I am dedicated to you,” Link says. “Forever, I am yours. Don’t you want that?”

“Yes,” Rhett says again. 

“No one and nothing can take me away from you,” Link says. “As long as you want me, I will be here. And they can find another robot to study.”

“But Link, what if you’re the only one?” 

“I can’t be. In all the millions of companions out there, I simply can’t be the only one who…”

“I think you might be.”

Link leans in to press his forehead to Rhett’s. “Fine,” he says. “Even so. Believe in me a little bit, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.” 

Rhett sees truth in the eyes of his little robot, and fear keeps him from fighting any longer. “Okay, Link,” he says. “Okay.”

 

Rhett and Link wait in the familiar comfort of the examination room in Raleigh. Stevie is bringing someone new to them today, a biomedical engineer who believes they can do something to help. Link kicks at the table as he waits, perched with his back straight and his face turned towards the open door. Rhett leans on the table at Link’s side, arms crossed over his chest, pretending not to be scared out of his mind. For the time being, it’s working. He lets Link be the bundle of nervous energy, his shoes making thumping noises on the legs of the table. He lets Link be the one in constant motion. For now, Rhett is too scared to move, as if moving would break the spell and all of this would vanish. 

But for the moment, Rhett is able to keep giving Link everything he wants. It feels impossibly good. Link catches Rhett staring at him and offers a timid smile. 

“Thank you for being here with me,” Link chirps, as if Rhett would rather be anywhere else. 

“Anything for you,” Rhett replies. As they wait for Stevie, Rhett fusses with the splint on his left hand, grimacing at the pain that flashes down his arm. 

“Don’t mess with that,” Link says. “I don’t like to see you in pain.”

Rhett opens his mouth to tell Link he’s fine. But footsteps nearing the door quiet him. He pushes off from the table, Link’s hand pressing anxiously at the small of his back as nerves hit the two of them at once. “It’s okay,” Rhett says with his back to Link. “Don’t be scared.” 

“Okay,” Link whispers in reply. “You neither.” 

Stevie flounces into the room with a clipboard held to her chest and a second doctor on her heels. The man who follows Stevie has a neatly trimmed beard and a mop of dark hair, piercing eyes, and an anticipatory smile dancing on his friendly face. 

“Good afternoon, you two!” Stevie says, sweeping into the room. “This is Doctor Champion. He thinks he can help you.” 

“Call me Drew,” the doctor says. He wastes no time in sweeping by Rhett to introduce himself to Link, one hand outstretched for Link to take. “It’s absolutely amazing to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“And I, you,” Link replies politely, taking the hand offered to him. He’s wary and a little bit scared, his eyes flitting restlessly over every face in the room. 

“So, can we get right into this?” the new doctor asks. “I have a million things I want to try and I want to discuss as many of them as I can before you leave here today.” 

“You think you can help me…today?” Link asks. He sits frozen on the table, the motion of his restless legs paused as he cocks his head to the side. Like he hardly dares to be hopeful, Link narrows his eyes and offers Drew a tiny smile. 

“Oh, yes,” Drew says. “I have a lot of ideas. But first things first.” Link startles as Drew claps his hands. “You want to cry. Is that right? What a strange request.”

“Oh, I’m full of strange requests,” Link replies. He comes back into himself more by the second, shyness evaporating as he gets used to the new face. 

Drew beams. “Thank you, Stevie, for calling me. I think I’m going to like working with this one immensely.” Stevie tells Drew she already does, and Rhett feels a strange sense of pride at the happiness his little robot brings. Without even trying, Link brings joy wherever he goes. 

Especially to Rhett. 

Drew begins to explain the procedure he wants to try, waving his hands animatedly as he speaks. Rhett hardly hears a word. He hovers behind the doctors and watches as Link’s eyes remain on him. More than anything else, this makes Rhett feel the most at ease. Link looks at him and everything else goes away. Is that so terrible? 

“I think saline artificial tears may work,” Drew says, bringing Rhett back down from the height that Link’s eyes had taken him. “I simply have to place an artificial lacrimal gland in the inner corner of each eye. I believe I can connect these glands to the new emotion chip you were given, and that through this connection, your emotions can cause you to cry. Does that make sense to you?” 

“I think so, yes,” Link says. 

“Okay, then,” Drew replies. “What do you say we give it a try?” 

One hour later, Link readies himself to power down as Drew lays out all the tools he needs. Rhett swallows when he sees the scalpel and tries not to look at the rest of the things on the examination table laid out at Link’s side. He stands in front of Link, keeping him distracted to keep him from panicking. Link looks just as scared as Rhett feels. 

“This is gonna be easy,” Rhett says. “And when you wake up, I’m gonna tell you the saddest story to make you cry.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Drew says cheerfully. “I have the feeling you will wake up wanting to cry without needing our help. If you woke up from your previous augmentation already wanting to cry, it shouldn’t take much to prod you to tears this time.” 

_Don’t let them hurt him_. Rhett ignores the warning. The doctors are only doing what they need to do to help Link. They will not hurt him without a reason. And Rhett will be here to stem the flow of tears once Link learns how to make them fall. 

“Okay, I’m going to have you power down, now,” Stevie says. She acts as Drew’s right hand, a syringe full of saline held between her fingers. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Yes,” Link says. “I can.” He glances at Rhett, plucks his glasses from his face, and passes them into Rhett’s hands. “Don’t lose those,” he says. The innocuous request has Rhett smiling despite himself. Leave it to his little robot to say something so small and so painfully endearing that it might be Rhett who ends up crying. Carefully, Rhett folds up the blocky eyeglasses and slips them into the back pocket of his jeans. “Thank you,” Link says. “Don’t sit on them.”

“Link, don’t be so nervous,” Rhett says. Link’s fraying nerves set Rhett on edge, but he tries not to let it show. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Link says. He smiles, he tucks his chin down close to his chest, and he powers off. Like a switch has been flipped, the light seems to leave the room all at once. With the fluorescent bulbs still buzzing faintly overhead, Rhett knows it isn’t true. But still, he feels darkness creep into the edges of his vision as if Link carries light with him everywhere he goes. 

Drew begins to work. 

Rhett sits down and almost crushes Link’s glasses, jumping out of his hard plastic seat in surprise and tucking the glasses on top of his head for safekeeping instead. And he waits. He doesn’t look over as Drew and Stevie work; the noises coming from various cutters and syringe plungers is almost too much for Rhett to handle. The ever-present fear of Link not being the same when he awakes hangs over Rhett as he waits, his head between his hands. It’s a useless thought but one that he can never shake off. What would he do if his Link was fundamentally changed? 

He doesn’t give his panicked brain a chance to answer that.

“Okay, I think we’re all done here,” Drew says. Rhett looks up to find him triumphant. “Want to wake him up yourself?” 

Rhett does.

He rises to his feet and places one hand on Link’s knee in search of the trigger to pull. He hesitates, Drew and Stevie watching him with expectant smiles on their faces. And he squeezes. 

“Oh!” Link squeaks, the same beautiful sound of surprise he makes every time. His eyes fly open and land on Rhett. Nothing about the look in his eyes has changed at all. Rhett breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of those beautiful, perfect baby blues, and Link begins to beam. “Oh, Rhett!” Without his glasses, it’s easy to see the tears collecting in the corners of Link’s eyes. “Oh! Oh, _Rhett_!” 

“Hey, Link,” Rhett replies. 

And Link starts to cry. 

It’s nothing like the first time. This time it’s real. Link’s shoulders hitch as his hands fly to cover his mouth, his eyes open wide. One tear falls, a beautiful, shining tear slipping from his left eye. A second tear follows, and then more, more than Rhett can count. As Link looks at Rhett, laughing with giddiness and pure elation, he cries. He cries, tears clinging to his eyelashes, slipping down his cheeks, and landing to soak into the fabric of his jeans. There’s no distress behind the tears, not this time. Link cries happy tears, smiling so widely his hands can’t hide it. 

It isn’t long before Rhett feels like joining in. 

“Don’t cry!” Link says the moment tears brim hotly behind Rhett’s eyes. 

“I’m not!” he replies. But it’s obvious as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, and Link laughs at the sight. 

“Oh, Rhett, you don’t have to cry! Really, you don’t! I’m crying because I’m happy, Rhett!”

Rhett looks at Link through a haze of tears and says, “Yeah, Link. Me too.” 

Link cries quietly, brushing tears aside with his fingertips. The doctors stand aside and give him time to pull himself together. In the end, he does, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve to stem the flow. “I don’t really know how to stop,” Link admits, and the answering laughter from Stevie and Drew makes Link laugh even harder. 

It takes Link a long time to go quiet again. Every time he stills, his eyes dry, he starts to laugh again and sets off a fresh stream of tears. They splash down his cheeks and Rhett catches the tears in his hands. 

“It’s okay, Link,” Rhett says. “Take your time.” 

“No, no, I’m done. I’m done.” Link sits up straight and composes himself, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he tries to keep back a smile. “Thank you,” he says, turning his eyes to Drew. “Thank you so much.” 

Drew tells Link the same thing everyone tells him. “Anything for you.” 

 

Link is happy. Rhett is sure of it. As spring begins to creep into the North Carolina air, Link becomes both the recipient and the test subject of new augmentations. Once a week, at least, Rhett gets a phone call. ABT wants to try giving companions the ability to feel pain to help them take notice of mechanical defects as they happen. Sure. Rhett takes Link to Raleigh and Link lets the doctors prick his fingertips with lancets until he squeaks in pain. 

“Is this necessary?” Rhett asks as Link shakes out his stinging hand. 

“Well, the companions are apt to begin to break down over time,” Drew replies. “They need replacement parts, just like a human might need a new kidney or a new heart. But we haven’t gotten the hang of finding potentially degraded parts until they’re already broken and affecting the companion’s function. We’re hoping that if they can feel pain, they can feel a loose part and detect it before it causes further harm.” He offers Rhett a smile, but Rhett is still uneasy at the sight of pain flashing across Link’s face. 

“Yeah, I got it,” Rhett says. He doesn’t have to like every change they make to his little robot. He’s allowed to be scared. He tells himself so, anyway, as Drew pricks Link’s fingertip again and elicits a pained whine.

As long as Link is okay, Rhett tries not to let it bother him. And Link seems just fine to him. When they return home after installing pain sensors under Link’s skin, Link is happy as he has always been. 

And if Rhett is not, that’s okay, too. 

They sleep alone. Rhett lies in his room and tosses and turns, listening to the sounds of Link getting ready to power off for the night. The love is still there (God, is it) but it’s easier this way, when Rhett can’t curl himself around Link and convince himself it’s okay to need him. 

Rhett’s hand heals, and Link kisses Rhett’s fingers when he slips the splint off. That’s okay. Little moments of vulnerability are okay. Rhett thanks Link for the kiss and Link smiles beatifically. 

“You’re welcome, Rhett!” he says. “I’m always glad to help!” 

Rhett shakes his head in wonder as Link flounces away down the hall to his bedroom. More and more every day, he is sure: there’s something extra special about his little robot. Something no one else has. And Rhett is the one lucky enough to witness him grow. 

He is always glad to help, too. 

 

ABT wants to enable their companions’ hair to grow. It’s a silly thing, but Link agrees to it.

“Maybe I’ll grow it really long!” he says, toying with raven strands of hair. “Maybe I’ll grow a beard! Rhett, would I look good with a beard?” 

Rhett mimes holding a camera in front of him, making a frame with his hands. He squints through the square made by his hands, the doctors laughing at the little show, and he says, “I don’t know. I just can’t picture it!” 

“I wouldn’t want to have a beard, anyway,” Link says as Stevie asks him to power off. “Don’t wanna steal your thunder.” Once his head is hanging low and Rhett is alone with the doctors, Stevie speaks up. 

“He sounds more like you every time I see him.” 

“Yeah?”

“The speech patterns, the mannerisms…even the accent. It’s incredible.”

“Well, lucky him,” Rhett replies. 

“Yeah,” Stevie says, either missing Rhett’s sarcasm or ignoring it. “Lucky him.” 

 

Rhett does not get really scared until ABT asks to give Link the ability to breathe. 

“We want to start with artificial lungs,” Stevie explains over the phone. She sounds like she can hardly contain her excitement as she speaks. For his part, Rhett clings to his phone until his knuckles go white. He eyes Link, who sits with his legs curled up on the loveseat. Rhett sits at the kitchen table and watches Link watch TV. Still in the middle of looking for a new job, Rhett has had too much time on his hands. He and Link breezed through the forties and fifties in their continuous movie marathon. Link watches Psycho as Rhett talks with his free hand cupped around the phone to muffle his voice. 

“No real organs, right?” Rhett asks. 

Stevie’s prolonged silence gives him the answer long before she replies. “Honestly, Rhett, we think we can do it. If the artificial lungs take, we want to give it a try. Do you think Link would…?”

“Stevie, real organs mean a lot more than the freakin’ ability to grow a mustache. Don’t you think that’s a little…?”

They take turns interrupting each other. “Rhett, this is such a big opportunity. Do you understand what could happen if we make a breakthrough like this? We could potentially get the knowledge we need to bring people back from the dead!”

The leap from organs to playing God leaves Rhett breathless. “What?” he chokes. 

“If we could implant an organ into a robotic body, then we could do it with a brain. We could…maybe…if this goes well…” She trails off, but she picks back up steam as Rhett keeps his mouth shut. “Look, the next time someone you love dies, imagine if you were told they could come back! All we’d have to do is put their brain, complete with all that makes them, them into a waiting robotic body that looks just like them! Rhett, this could mean immortality.” She goes quiet, but Rhett can hear her breathing on the other line. 

“You’re insane,” he tells her. For the first time, he gets scared. Not because of what they could do to Link, and not because of what they want to do to him. Rhett feels a trickle of fear drip down his spine at the thought of what they could do for humanity. “It’s not right,” he says. “You have to be joking.” 

“Rhett, for goodness sake,” Stevie says, exasperated. “Let me talk to Link. I want to know what he has to say about it.” 

“I don’t care what he has to say,” Rhett replies. He forgets himself and talks way too loud. Link looks up, his blue eyes burning bright, and Rhett gives his head a shake to say, _not now_. Link does not look away as Rhett tries to get Stevie off the phone. “Listen, that’s great,” Rhett says. “Seriously, real great. But I don’t want it. I’m not interested. Find another robot to screw out of the life they want.” 

“Rhett, do you even _know_ what he wants anymore?” Stevie challenges, but Rhett is done listening. Link jumps a foot in the air when Rhett hangs up the phone, tosses it against the wall with a thunk, and groans. He is at Rhett’s side before Rhett can tell him everything’s okay. 

“What did they ask for?” Link asks. 

“Too much,” Rhett replies. He wants to beg Link not to ask again, to let it go, but Link’s curiosity is one of the most beautiful, wondrous things about him. He’s curious now. It radiates off him as he places a hand on Rhett’s knee, squeezing anxiously. He tightens his hold the longer Rhett goes without continuing. 

“Rhett, what is it?”

“It’s too much, Link.”

“Tell me.”

“They want to give you _organs_ , Link.”

“But that’s…”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Link nods. “Yes. What’s wrong with that, Rhett? Why don’t you want them to do that?”

“They’re doing it for the wrong reasons. They’re not doing it for you.” 

“Rhett,” Link says. He shifts Rhett’s restless hands off his own thighs so he can climb into Rhett’s lap, something he has not done in weeks. He places each of Rhett’s hands on his hips where they fit perfectly, and like Rhett has missed desperately, he cups Rhett’s face in his palms. “Rhett, they’ve _never_ been doing it for me,” he says. A sad little smile graces his face, his rosy lips turning up. “They’re doing it for themselves. You think I don’t know that? But look! Look how long my hair has gotten! I love it, Rhett. I love the things they’ve done for me. Even when I tripped on the porch the other day and hurt my knee. I loved that, too. Rhett, look at me.”

Rhett looks up into Link’s face, the wide open face he feels like he has hardly seen in weeks. He’s still just as lovely, just as sweet, goodness and hope radiating off him like a space heater in a frigid room. 

“I don’t care why they’re doing what they’re doing. Can you please let me make the decision? I know it’s…it’s up to you. Because you’re my administrator.” The word makes Rhett’s chest hurt; Link has never said it in as long as Rhett can remember. It sounds completely wrong and terrible coming from him. “But I want you to trust me. I want this. And I’m not going to beg, Rhett, but…I want you. I miss the way you touch me.” He wiggles his hips under Rhett’s hands and by reflex, Rhett tightens his hold. “I want to be real so you can really love me,” he whispers. “Can’t you help me get there? If you don’t…then what the hell is the point of all this hurting, Rhett? Your hurt and mine. Come on.” The longer Link goes on, the angrier he gets, becoming a darker and harder version of the person Rhett loves. Still, Rhett doesn’t look away as Link’s smile fades and his eyes darken. “Please,” Link says. 

“Link.” 

“ _What_?”

“I can’t let you do this.” 

The hands on Rhett’s face slide down to his chest as Link falters. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to put your fate in their hands anymore.”

“But…”

“Link, it’s so dangerous. What they’re doing is so, so messed up. It’s not right. I didn’t know they wanted to take it this far…”

“Rhett, I need this.”

“I need you to listen to me. I can’t let you. I can’t. It’s not safe, Link. It could kill you. Real organs? Those can bleed. Those can fail.”

“Why do you care if I die?” Link asks. “You only want to love me if I’m human. Well, why don’t you find a human, then? I thought I might be good enough. Silly me.” He struggles out of Rhett’s lap, Rhett reaching for him by instinct. He frees himself from Rhett’s hands and turns to face him, eyes stormy. “You’re not being fair to me,” Link says. “I thought you were going to always be good to me, Rhett.” 

“What do you think I’m trying to do now, huh?” Rhett rises and Link flinches back, taking a quick step backwards to get more space between Rhett and him. “All I want is for you to be happy!” 

“Then _let_ me be! They’re offering to put something real and human inside of me! What more do you want?” Link has tears in his eyes. Rhett is still not used to that. When they slip unbidden down his cheeks, Rhett swears and turns away. “Fine,” Link says to Rhett’s back. “That’s fine.” The fight leaving his voice, Link leaves Rhett standing all alone. And when Link breaks the window in his bedroom for the second time, this time he does it of his own volition. 

Later, the fight leaving the two of them shaken and sad, Rhett tapes a garbage bag to the broken window to keep out the impending rain. Link thanks him quietly and Rhett tells him it’s no problem. Neither one of them offers up an apology. 

Late at night, long after he should have been asleep, Rhett hears Link’s voice coming from down the hall. He sits up in bed and listens. 

“Yes,” Link says softly. “Yes, I want to try. He’s scared. That’s…no, that’s the…” He pauses. Rhett’s heart leaps up into his throat. Link is calling ABT on his own, making the choice to change for himself. Rhett is halfway out of bed before he hears Link say his name. “No, Rhett…he means everything to me. I won’t leave him, no matter what he says to me.” Rhett and Link pause at the same time as the person on the other line speaks. “No, I’m sure,” Link says. “Yes, tomorrow. That’s good. That’s perfect.” He exchanges pleasantries with the ABT employee and Rhett yanks open his bedroom door. By the time Rhett makes it to Link’s bedroom, the phone call is over. And Link is ready for him. The moment Rhett opens the door, Link squares his shoulders. 

“Why would you do that?” Rhett asks. 

“I’m sorry,” Link says. Rhett looks up from the hard set of his shoulders to look Link in the face. What he finds in Link’s open eyes is heartbreak that is all too real. “It hurts, you know. To disobey you. Here.” Link points to his own chest, tears brimming over in his eyes and collecting in his lashes. “I just…I _love_ you. And I want to be yours. Why are you trying to stop me from getting there now?” 

Rhett is so sorry that Link can’t understand him. It hurts him too, right in the same spot Link is hurting. Deep in his chest, it hurts, and he wants Link to understand. But the man before him is still more machine than man at all. 

Instead of fighting him, instead of ending the night with another sprinkling of broken glass across the lawn, Rhett concedes. Once more, he can give Link what he wants. “I won’t stop you,” he says. “I’ll take you there. But don’t expect me to be happy with the things they want to do to you. I…”

“You what?” Link asks as Rhett falters. There is too much space between Rhett and his little robot that he wants to close. All it would take is two easy strides, and Link would be in his arms. But Link is crying and Link is in pain, and Rhett causes it all. 

“I still want you,” Rhett says. “I just didn’t know what they were after. I didn’t think it through. God, I didn’t think at all.” 

“You weren’t thinking when you ordered me,” Link says. “Were you?” 

“No,” Rhett admits. 

“So your heart can’t be all wrong, then.” 

“No,” Rhett says again. “I guess you’re right.” 

Finally, Link smiles. It’s small and watery, but it’s a sight for sore eyes. Rhett smiles back. 

“Your heart led you to me, didn’t it?” Link asks. “Let my heart lead me to you.” 

Rhett doesn’t have anything to say to that. They end the night feeling better than they did before, but not as good as Link believes they will feel tomorrow. Rhett is not so sure. But he lets it be. If Link is happy for the night, that is all Rhett needs. 

 

Rhett sits in the same examination room as always, his back arched and his head hanging between his knees. Link is perched on the table, his legs swinging, everything much the same as it always is. The only thing that’s different is the gravity of the operation for which they wait. Stevie and Drew prepare in a room Rhett has never seen. This is serious surgery, something more than implanting a chip and waiting for the change. This is Link getting cut open sternum to stomach. It is terrifying, it’s too much, and Link stays quiet as Rhett tries not to throw up. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” Link says. When Rhett can’t make himself reply, Link is quiet for a while more. When he speaks up again, there’s more patience in his voice. “You really are okay. I’m gonna be fine, Rhett. I’m a machine, remember? Not a man who can die on an operating table. I promise.” 

“You can’t promise that,” Rhett sighs. His heart seizes at the thought. Link is going to be more vulnerable than he ever has before, and Rhett is the one who is scared. Link is impossibly brave. Rhett looks up, his chin propped on shaky hands, to watch as Link swings his legs. His hair is longer, shaggy, almost falling in his eyes. He has five o’clock shadow on his face, and Rhett has had to teach Link how to shave. It’s ludicrous and it’s scary, all the things Link has had to learn to do. But Rhett has been taking the journey with him. It’s the least that he can do, to be present when Link asks it of him. 

Their fight still lingers in the back of Rhett’s mind, but so do images of scientists who think they are like God but turn out to be no more than a Doctor Frankenstein. 

“Are you ready?” Stevie asks, poking her head into the examination room. “The OR is ready and waiting when you are.” There’s a surgeon waiting to work on Link, a surgeon whose specialty is humans. Link hops off the examination table and tells Stevie he is ready. Rhett is not. He takes hold of Link by the sleeve of his flannel shirt and tells him to wait. 

“We’re on a schedule, Rhett,” Stevie says. She has been short and impatient with him since his refusal to do this, to be here. And now that Link is exactly where Stevie wants him, she is still cold towards Rhett. Her normal, bubbly self is gone every time her eyes slide from Link to Rhett. It’s just as well. Rhett feels the same way towards her. 

“Just let me talk to him,” Link says. Immediately, Stevie softens. She taps her wristwatch and tells Link he has two minutes to meet her in the operating room. Link waves her off, watches her leave, and turns his eyes on Rhett. “I’m scared,” he says the moment Stevie is out of earshot. “What if they can’t do it? What if the artificial lungs fail? If this doesn’t work, they won’t want to work with me anymore. What will I do then?” He babbles, one hand scrubbing anxiously at the fresh stubble on his cheeks. 

“If this doesn’t work, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it,” Rhett says bluntly. “You’ll probably die if this doesn’t work, Link.” He tries to feel as detached as he sounds. But Link sees through the act as easily as Rhett knew he would. 

“I won’t die,” Link says. “Trust me. Oh, Rhett, I just wanted to say one thing before I do this. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for doing this without your permission. And I love you. A lot. So much. So, so much.” 

“That’s two things, Link.”

“Stop being so stony, Rhett. You love me back. You’re scared. You think it could happen. That I could die. That this could kill me. What would you do, Rhett?”

“If I lost you?”

“Yes.” 

Rhett thinks about it as his two minutes run out. He can already hear an aggravated Stevie clicking back towards the room in her heels. “Probably the same thing I always do,” he replies as Stevie gets closer. Link looks towards the open door, his eyes wide. He keeps them there as Rhett goes on. “Wallow and never, ever forgive myself.”

Link’s voice is pained when he replies. “Oh, Rhett, you know just how to break my heart.”

“Imagine how you’ll feel when you have a real heart, Link,” he replies. He is trying to help. He is trying to warn Link, to end this experiment before something terrible happens that no one can reverse. He just wants to keep Link safe. Doesn’t he? There’s selfishness in the way Rhett speaks, warning Link against the things he wants. 

What _would_ Rhett do if he lost Link now? Losing him is not outside the realm of possibility as Link is pulled in two directions at once. He wants Rhett and he wants to be complete. For the moment, the two yank him in opposite directions. What if he chooses to leave Rhett behind? _No one and nothing can take me away from you_. Link said it himself. But as Rhett follows Link and Stevie to the operating room, he can’t help but let panic sink into his bones. 

One way or another, he is going to lose Link. He doesn’t know it for sure, but nothing good has been his for long. Link looks back at him as they walk, his hair flopping over his eyes, and Rhett smiles at him. It’s all the comfort Rhett can offer. Link does not smile back. 

“Are you ready to try being a little more human?” Stevie asks of Link. They reach a solid white door and they stop outside of it, Stevie looking at Link expectantly. She always looks at him like that, like she wants something from him. Has she looked at him like that since the beginning? 

“Yes,” Link replies. But his hand finds Rhett’s as they stand outside the door to the operating room. There is so much of this place that Rhett has yet to see, so many rooms and labs and corridors leading to rooms where anything can be changed. He doesn’t like the solidness of the metal door before him. It’s built like it stands to keep back those who try to run. He wants to follow Link through the door, to see the same things he is going to see if for no other reason. But Stevie puts a hand on Rhett’s chest as she opens the door for Link and stalls him. 

“Rhett, I think you should stay out here. I know how squeamish you are.” She looks hard up at Rhett and gives him a small smile. She does not make it sound like a request, nor like friendly advice. Stevie wants Rhett out here and out of her way. 

Once Link steps through the door that Stevie holds propped open with one foot, Rhett ducks his head to whisper in her ear. “What’s the deal?” he asks. “Something you don’t want me to see?” 

“No,” she snaps. A strand of long, blonde hair falls over her face and she sticks out her bottom lip to huff it out of her way. “Listen, this is just very important to me. To all of us. And I’m worried that if I let you in here, you’re going to compromise the operation. You love him, Rhett. I told you how dangerous that was. Do you believe me now?” 

“I believed you then.”

“Good. Keep believing it. Come on, Link. Let’s get you breathing.” Stevie gives Rhett a curt nod, takes Link by the shoulder, and doesn’t give Link time to say goodbye. The door closes as Link looks over his shoulder at Rhett. And it locks behind him. 

With nothing to do but wait, Rhett buries his face in his hands and prepares himself for an empty, anxious afternoon. 

 

Link’s mechanical body takes to the artificial set of lungs beautifully. Stevie tells Rhett so as she comes out through the metal door to meet him. 

“I think this is going to work,” Stevie says. The enthusiasm in her eyes doesn’t make Rhett feel as safe as it used to. “I really, really think we’re doing something great here.” 

“That makes one of us.”

“Rhett, you’re something else. We give everything to you, and you repay us with whining and sarcasm. It’s not becoming of you. I thought we were friends.” Some of the ice in her voice thaws, and when Rhett meets her eyes, he sighs. 

“We are,” he says. “I just don’t like this. Your ideas are too big.”

“You know, Rhett, I would have said the same about yours a few months ago. And now, almost everything you want is yours. Isn’t that something?” 

Rhett refrains from telling her she has a point. 

He waits eagerly for Link as tests are run on him in the operating room to make sure everything is working right. Stevie waits with him, at first trying to talk to him about the things she hopes to do. But as she talks about things that sound like ugly conglomerations of _Inspector Gadget_ and _Frankenstein_ , Rhett asks her to stop. “Can we talk about something else?” he asks. 

“Sure,” she replies. She uses the rest of the time they spend leaning on either side of the metal door to talk about her dog. She even shows Rhett pictures on her phone as she talks about all the tricks he knows. Rhett can hardly focus, his thoughts with Link, and Stevie knows that. She is still his friend and she talks anyway, to distract him if nothing else. 

The moment the door between them opens, everything else vanishes. Link opens the door, followed by Drew and the surgeon. The little robot looks no different as he tips his chin up to look at Rhett. 

“Hi,” Link says, open face on proud display. He’s happy. Ecstatic. It’s easy to see it in every corner of his face, the joy coming off of him in waves.

“Hi,” Rhett replies. When Link hugs him, rising up on his toes to kiss Rhett’s cheek, his lips are followed by something Rhett has never felt before. Link’s breath puffs out across Rhett’s face. 

Link’s breath takes Rhett’s away. 

“Link!” Rhett cries. 

“I know,” Link laughs in reply. He takes in a breath and lets it out. He inhales, exhales, holds his breath, and puffs out his cheeks. He does it until Rhett smiles and he keeps doing it until he laughs. Once Rhett does, giddy with relief that no harm has come to Link, Link releases the breath he holds and beams. “I’m getting there, Rhett,” he says. “Closer every day.” 

Rhett does not say _I’m happy for you_. He does not say _I’m scared_. Instead, he keeps quiet, giving Link his happy moment, because whatever Rhett could say wouldn’t be enough. Link knows it now, what it’s like to feel a million things all at the same time. He has to understand why Rhett is too overwhelmed to speak. 

Rhett gets to take Link home with the promise of returning in a week to take the next step. To give him something real. Link is utterly giddy on the way home. He breathes into his hands just to feel it, laughing to himself at the new sensation. Rhett tells him to try blowing on the glass of the window, and as Link’s breath fogs it up, he laughs until he cries. 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link sighs. He draws a heart in the fog on the window and wipes it away with his fingers. He pauses, hands going back to his lap. “I’m sorry,” he says. When Rhett glances at him, his head is hung low, his chin on his chest. “I’m sorry for wanting so much. I didn’t know I would keep wanting like this once I started.” Again, he stills. Rhett keeps his hands tight on the wheel to keep himself from reaching out and squeezing Link’s knee instead. “And now, I’m scaring myself. What if whatever they can give me isn’t good enough? What if I’m human and I just keep wanting?”

Despite the dread hanging over him, it’s Rhett’s turn to laugh. “Link, that’s what being human is. You want and you keep wanting for your whole life. You want what you don’t have. Always. It doesn’t go away.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been human for almost forty years, Link. I’m sure.”

“What do you want?”

“You ask me like you don’t know.”

Link looks up, first at Rhett and then at the open road towards home. “You want your family to love you no matter what,” Link says. “You want your brother to understand you. You want to be able to let go of your past, but you want to remember it.” Rhett tries to quiet Link, every word out of his mouth a little too much to handle. But Link has learned stubbornness from Rhett, and he swats away the hand Rhett tries to place on his thigh. “No, listen,” Link says. “Why do you think you’re allowed to know me by heart but I’m not allowed to know you? It’s not fair, Rhett, the restrictions you put on me. Are they still going to be there even when I’m human? Even when I’m human, are you going to try and tell me I am not allowed to know you? Because I’m not stupid, even though I’m a machine. Even though I don’t have a real brain, or a real heart, I feel like I do. And you need to be fair to me, Rhett. Isn’t that what people do for the ones they love? Treat them fairly?” 

“Not always,” Rhett replies. Link opens his mouth to protest, on edge and angry, but Rhett cuts him off. “You don’t seem to get it yet, Link, that people aren’t perfect. They treat each other terribly. Look at everyone around you, honey.” The term of endearment slips out, but Link doesn’t blink. And Rhett does not let it give him pause. 

“Right now, the only person who’s treating me terribly is you.” Link’s firm accusation brings Rhett to a grinding halt. He keeps his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road, but everything else stops. Immediately, Link backpedals. “I didn’t mean that. I’m still getting used to having all these feelings. When I’m frustrated, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…”

“No, you’re right.” Rhett looks sideways at Link, who sits in his seat like he wishes he could run away. “You’re right. Don’t you think I would have a better life than this if I was a good person, Link? I’ve never been patient, or good, or loving. And I thought I was working on it…I thought I was doing well, for you.”

“You were…” Link whispers. 

“No matter what it looks like from your perspective, you’re the most important thing to me.”

“Still?”

“Always.” 

“Even if…?”

“That’s what _no matter what_ means, Link.” 

For a moment, Link wiggles uneasily in his seat as he looks at Rhett. His eyes seem to leave hot spots on Rhett’s skin everywhere they land. In the end, he gives his head a sad little shake, the hair he’s grown out long falling over his eyes. “Humanity is immensely confusing,” he says. 

“I know,” Rhett replies. “Still want in?” 

“Yes,” Link says. “I do.” 

Rhett leaves it at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world's biggest thank you to [brainmelon](http://brainmelon.tumblr.com/) for literally saving my ass this week. This story wouldn't exist without her and continues to exist thanks to her advice and guidance (I can't wait to show you guys what she came up with). <3 
> 
> Another thank you to [Emily](http://mythicalemily.tumblr.com/) for being incredible as always; I would never be brave enough to post every week without your help and love. <3
> 
> And thank you to everyone who reads, comments, and sends me sweet messages every week. I do it all for you <3 (Sorry for being so sappy this week; I may not be able to update next Saturday and it has me feeling a little vulnerable :P)


	9. Weak Spot

Stevie dons her professional voice as she explains to Rhett and Link how ABT is building real, human organs in their lab. They build perfect recreations of them, anyway, and everything Stevie says goes over Rhett’s head as she says it. He is not interested in the science behind the things they do. Not when all he can think about is the feverish way Stevie said, “ _Rhett, this could mean immortality_.” 

“I want to start with placing lab created organs,” Stevie says to Link as they pace through the Raleigh lab. “If that takes, I would like the opportunity to try placing organs from bodies that have been donated to science. All of this is experimental, you see, and every different approach we take could make a world of difference. You’re willing to try both lab created and donor organs, aren’t you?” 

She says it like she doesn’t want to give Link the choice. Luckily for her, Link nods. “Oh, yes,” he says. “I’m willing to try anything. Everything. Whatever you need me to try.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Stevie replies. She leads the way towards the operating room, towards the white metal door that keeps Rhett at bay when she needs it to. 

At the door, Link pauses. He wrings his hands together and looks up at Rhett, his eyes shining. He turns them on Stevie to ask, “Can Rhett please come in with me this time? I’m scared and I want him there.” 

Rhett opens his mouth to tell him no, he wants nothing to do with what’s beyond the door, he can’t go, and he won’t. But Link is looking at him with hopeful eyes, the corners of his mouth just turned down. Stevie watches Rhett’s face for a moment before saying, “It’s up to him.”

With permission granted, it’s harder for Rhett to tell Link no. Truthfully, the thought of watching his little robot get cut into scares the hell out of Rhett. But when Link looks at him so hopefully, waiting for the answer, Rhett can’t disappoint him. “Yeah,” Rhett says. “I’ll come.” 

He and Link hold hands loosely as they step through the heavy metal door. Link instigates it and Rhett accepts, squeezing Link’s cool fingers with his own. When the door closes behind them with a loud click, Rhett swallows and does not look back. Link catches him gnawing at his lip and offers up a smile. “Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “It’s really not as scary as you might think back here. I was scared the first time. I’m not anymore.” He shrugs, the gesture learned from Rhett. _A lot of what makes them human comes from you._

Rhett has been thinking for a long time about the truth in the simple statement. More and more, it seems a lot of what makes Rhett human is Link. With the line blurred between human and machine, Rhett is no longer sure who between the two of them is more human: him or his little robot. If mankind was judged purely on curiosity, on the desire to explore, it would be Link. Maybe that is what being human used to mean. But now, it’s not just the yearning for more that makes a person human. It’s impatience and it’s anger. It’s being unsure, and being scared, and being selfish, cruel, and wrong. Rhett has that down to a science. 

“Rhett?” Link asks. He drags Rhett from his thoughts with his voice and the smile dancing on his lips. “Did you hear that?” 

“No,” Rhett admits. He looks between Link and Stevie in search of what he missed, and Stevie repeats herself. 

“I was just trying to tell you that after this surgery, we would like to keep Link here overnight for observation,” she says. “Just to make sure he’s all right and functioning properly. As you know, we haven’t done this before. We have no idea what to expect, and we want him to be here in case anything goes wrong.” 

Link winces and shoots a furtive glance at Rhett at the mention of something going wrong. Rhett does not want to think about it. When he meets Link’s worried gaze, he tries his best to smile. 

“Okay,” Rhett says. Leaving Link here is the last thing he wants. But Rhett gives in. He’s not yet used to the world growing bigger all around him. He’s not used to having to worry about more important things than how he feels when he’s alone. “Just one night?” he asks. Stevie nods and Rhett echoes the gesture in reply. He will survive a night without Link. He will. As if sensing his unease (Link has gotten frighteningly good at that), Link slips his hand back into Rhett’s and squeezes. 

“I will be fine!” Link says. “They will take good care of me. And when I get back to you, I will be even better than I was before!”

Rhett seems to be the only one here thinking that _new_ might not always mean _improved_. But he keeps his mouth shut to keep the smile from slipping off Link’s face. The more he does it, the easier it becomes and the more natural it feels. He does the same thing he taught Link to do; he hides his feelings for the man he loves. It’s simply what people do. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’ll be fine. I know it will.” He smiles as best as he can as Stevie leads the way to the operating room. He smiles as Link gets ready to power down, and he even smiles as Stevie tells Link something new. 

“You know,” she says, giving Link the same adoring smile that she always does. “We’re working on a way to help you sleep instead of powering down. How does that sound?” 

Rhett manages to keep on smiling as Link tells her, “That sounds wonderful.” 

He smiles because he remembers the way Link looked at him when he said, “ _Right now, the only person who’s treating me terribly is you_.” Link was right to say it, but it doesn’t make Rhett feel better to admit as much to himself. Getting better at being human is far harder than Rhett expected it to be. All he can do is keep trying. 

He tries as Link lies back on an operating table, an apprehensive downturn to his lips. He tries as Link powers down. And he tries as Stevie ushers him out of the operating room to watch through a pane of glass. Separated from Link by a wall and a window, Rhett finds it hard to keep trying. But Stevie looks up at him like she expects him to be angry, to fight her, to ball his hands up into fists. Instead, he thanks her. 

“Link appreciates what you’re doing for him,” Rhett says. “More than he knows how to say.” 

“We know,” she says. A surgeon Rhett has never seen before sets up his tools in preparation, laying them out on the table at Link’s side. Rhett swallows hard and presses his forehead to the cool glass of the window. “Just like we know how scary this is for you, and for him. You’re…you’re very brave. The both of you.”

“Brave,” Rhett scoffs, thinking of all the times he cried in Link’s arms. There is nothing brave about finding solace in a robot. There’s nothing brave about Rhett’s qualms, his anxieties, nor his inability to ever make the right decision. He’s not brave. Link is. He is the bravest thing Rhett has ever known. Rhett tells Stevie so, and she nods, her eyes on Link. 

“He is,” she says wistfully. “I don’t know what makes him so special, but I wish we did. Then all of them could be as wonderful as him.” 

Rhett closes his eyes as the surgeon prepares to cut into Link’s chest. “No,” he says, his breath fogging up the window. “I like him being the only one.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stevie giving him a look. He can’t quite tell what she’s trying to convey and he’s not sure he wants to know, anyway. 

“He’s going to change the world,” Stevie says. Whatever she tries to tell Rhett with her eyes, he does not look to see it. But he listens. “You know that, right? He’s going to change _everything_.”

“You mean you’re gonna change everything in him and then ask him to sell it to the people.” 

“You’re so irritating sometimes,” Stevie replies. “The two of you mean a lot to me, but you sure as hell don’t make it easy to love you. It’s not hard to see why…” She trails off, one hand flying to her mouth as she bites back harsh words. Rhett looks at her full in the face for the first time all day. 

“Oh, say it,” he snaps. “Tell me that it’s no wonder I’m alone. No wonder I needed Link in the first place. You can say it. I’m not gonna tell you you’re wrong.” 

“That’s not exactly what I was going to say,” Stevie replies. Her eyes are open wide, her hair a curtain hiding her face when she looks down away from Rhett. 

“But close enough?” Rhett guesses. 

“Drop it,” she replies. For once, Rhett does what she asks of him. 

He watches Link through the window as the operation goes exactly as it should. Nothing terrible happens, at least as far as Rhett can tell. He still watches with his knuckles in his mouth. Stevie is quiet at his side, but her silence is not the edgy, nervous kind. Unlike Rhett, she buzzes with nothing but excitement. She bounces on her toes as she watches, almost giddy with impatience. The impatience is the only thing Rhett can understand. 

Through the glass, Rhett watches as Link is worked on, fussed over, and finally, powered back up. He watches as Link sits up, swinging his legs off the operating table. He watches as Link is spoken to by the surgeon, as Link nods, as Link looks up and searches for Rhett. When they lock eyes through the window, Link beams. He waves at the same time as he takes in a deep breath, and his smile changes abruptly. Link’s mouth falls open and his hand flies to his chest. Rhett is moving before he can think, panic closing his throat as Stevie makes a grab for him. 

“Hey, hey, he’s fine!” Stevie is saying behind Rhett, one hand on his sleeve, but Rhett ignores her. He bursts into the operating room to the sound of Link gasping for air. 

“Link!” Rhett cries, feeling weak at the knees and unsteady on his feet as Link looks at him. There’s fear in Link’s eyes and harshness in the way he breathes, like he’s trying to breathe through a clogged straw. Rhett is standing between Link’s knees with his hands all over his little robot before he can stop himself. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“Yes!” Link says. “Yes…I…think…” His breath hitches between every word and he squawks in pain as Rhett’s hands dig into his thighs. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Stevie snaps from behind Rhett. He ignores her again. The surgeon stands listlessly at Link’s side, baffled into silence by Rhett’s unexpected arrival into the room. 

“Link?” Rhett asks when Link does not go on.

“It’s…just…” Link tries to smile but it’s wan, his throat working and his chest heaving. “It’s strange!” 

“Strange?” Stevie asks. 

“Yes!” Link squeaks. He coughs for the first time, the lungs inside his body rebelling against him. “Oh, ow!” 

“Shit,” Stevie hisses. She slips into Rhett’s periphery to peer into Link’s face, ducking her head to meet his eyes. “Link, does it hurt? Are you okay? Can you describe to me what you’re feeling?”

“Can you wait a goddamn second, Stevie?!” Rhett snaps. Link hyperventilates and Rhett can hardly breathe himself. As Link coughs, his glasses slip down the slope of his nose, revealing the tears brimming over in his eyes. When he blinks, they fall. 

“I’m okay!” Link chirps. “I’m okay, I really am! I just…I need to get used to this.” He shakes his head when Stevie offers him a tissue pulled from inside her lab coat. “No, I…I didn’t know it would feel so…weird.” 

“How so?” Stevie asks. 

“Like it doesn’t belong in there.” 

Rhett pauses at the same time that Stevie does. They lock eyes, Stevie shaking with nerves she should have had from the beginning. Now that she’s as scared as Rhett is, he does not feel half as vindicated as he expected. It does him no good to know that Stevie is scared too. 

“Like it…? Link, you have to be a bit clearer than that.” Stevie tears her wide eyes from Rhett to place one hand on Link’s shoulder, leaning over the hands Rhett has on Link’s knees. 

“It’s a part of me,” Link says. His eyes close. “It’s a part of me. It belongs just like everything else.” He closes his mouth and takes in a long breath through his nose. Stevie’s hand tightens on Link’s shoulder as he tries to talk himself down from the edge of panic. Rhett knows the shakiness in Link’s voice well enough to know what he’s doing. 

“Link, are you…?” Stevie begins. 

“Fine!” he says. He opens his eyes and flashes a toothy little smile. “I’m fine. This is fine. I just didn’t know it would feel so foreign inside of me. I’m okay now. I’m…yeah. I’m okay.” He takes in another long, deep breath that rattles on its way out of his mouth. 

“You say it feels foreign?” Stevie asks. “What does that mean? Does it hurt? Is it bothering you? What can we do to make it easier for you to handle?”

“There is nothing for me to handle,” Link says. “This is great. This is fine. I really appreciate this. I think it will be good. I…” Link pauses. He drops a hand to his stomach, eyes going wide again. “Oh no,” he says. 

“Link?” Stevie says. Rhett is too scared to speak. Something is going wrong, and he is going to lose Link, and this was the worst thing they could have done. Something is breaking inside of Link and Rhett is never going to forgive himself for this, for ruining Link, for starting this whole thing and being unable to see the end. 

“Oh, I think I…” Link begins. That is all he gets to say. He tilts to one side, eyes rolling up, and before anyone can react, he does something painfully human. He passes out. 

“Link!” Stevie and Rhett cry his name together, the two of them racing to chase Link with frantic hands. Rhett beats her to it, his heart pounding hard enough to hurt as he reaches for Link’s slack face. He brushes back Link’s hair, praying under his breath for a sign of life. When he doesn’t get one, Link lifeless on the operating table, Rhett snaps. 

“Was this what you wanted, Stevie?!” he shouts. The surgeon helps Rhett lie Link back as Stevie hovers over, her fist in her mouth. “What the hell happened, huh? Can you explain this? Is he gonna be okay? You better start talking, Stevie, before I…”

“I don’t know!” Stevie wails. “I don’t know what happened! We’ve never done this before, you asshat! Shit!” She whirls on her heels and turns away from the scene, taking a moment to square her shoulders and calm down before facing Rhett again. By the time she has composed herself enough to join Rhett and try to help, Link’s eyes are fluttering. She elbows Rhett out of the way to peer into Link’s face, digging into her pockets and coming out with a penlight. Link blinks as she shines the light in his face and pins him down by the shoulder as he tries to sit up. 

“No, no, stay still,” she says. “Look into the light and follow it with your eyes.” She moves the light to the left and to the right, Link obeying her orders without saying a word. Rhett hovers over her shoulder and watches Link’s eyes. “What happened?” Stevie asks. “Can you describe to me what your body did? You’re…that’s…that’s not supposed to happen.” Her voice shakes and for half a second, Rhett feels sorry for her. But this is her doing, the blank look on Link’s face, and if something is wrong with him, Rhett is going to…

“I seem to be having….trouble…breathing,” Link replies. He finds Rhett and reaches out with one hand. Without pause, Rhett takes it. Link gasps, dragging in mouthfuls of air, his eyes wet and mouth open wide. 

“Okay,” Stevie says. “Okay.” She has nothing else to say. She flees from the room, leaving Rhett and Link in the care of the surgeon. He surveys the scene with horror in his face, and it’s all Rhett can do to keep from shouting at him to leave. Link’s fingers open and close around Rhett’s and he focuses on that as best as he can. 

“I’m okay!” Link tries to say. “I really…am! I just need…” His hand tightens around Rhett’s and Rhett gets yanked closer, staggering almost to his knees to crouch eye level with Link. 

“Hey, what can I do?” Rhett asks. 

“No, nothing, I just need to get…my…bearings.” Link breathes hard enough to spill tears down his cheeks, straining hard to get air into his brand new lungs. But the fear leaves his face as it mounts in Rhett’s chest, tightening his throat until he breathes as harshly as Link. What a pair they make, broken and breaking, falling apart and fallen. 

With a bang of metal on metal, Stevie bursts back through the door to the operating room, Drew on her heels. Rhett is pushed back again, Link’s hand slipping from his as Drew sets an oxygen mask into place over Link’s face. Stevie backs herself into the corner of the room and sinks limply to the floor. Rhett feels a rush of satisfaction at the tears on her cheeks. She’s scared. 

The urge to snap at her does not last long. Rhett is just as scared.

“Okay, deep breath,” Drew says to Link, coaching him through his first breaths with living lungs. “Good, now hold it- one, two, three, good. Exhale. Hold it.” He babbles and Link obeys him, his chest rising and falling as Drew helps him find a rhythm. “Now, are you in pain?” Drew asks. He has one hand on the oxygen tank he tossed up on the table and the other hand on Link’s shoulder, keeping him pinned. As Rhett watches, Link pauses to take stock of his body. Slowly, his limbs moving lackadaisically on the chrome operating table, he shakes his head. 

“No, I’m not,” he says. “Stevie, you can…” He pauses to cough, one hand gripping the mask over his face. “You can stop crying now.” 

Rhett turns his head to find Stevie with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Good. At the sound of surety returning to Link’s voice, Stevie looks up. She meets Rhett’s eyes, scrunches up her nose, and wipes hurriedly at her face with the back of one hand. “Crying?” she says, her face red and wet. “Who’s crying here?” When she stands up and joins Rhett in watching over Link, Rhett shoots her a look. He is not quite sure what he wants the look to convey, but she bristles anyway. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps. To Drew, she says, “Is he okay?”

“I think so,” Drew says at the same time that Link says, “Yes.” 

Rhett wants to reach out and touch Link to be sure, his heart still pounding painfully from the sight of Link’s eyes rolling back. It should not be possible for Link to faint, to lose his breath, to gasp as he tries to catch it. But the more things that change about Link, the more impossible things begin to happen. Everything about Link is new and miraculous, and it scares the hell out of Rhett to know that no one in the operating room knows any more than he does. 

As Drew helps Link acclimate to his newest addition, Rhett raises an eyebrow at Stevie. “Not crying, huh?” he asks. His heart finally slowing down, it’s easier to get back into rhythm: he gives Stevie a hard time and she gives him one right back. She slips gracefully back into her role of haughty know-it-all. 

“Nope,” she says. “I told you this would work. And look. It is. He’s doing great!” She waves a hand at Link as Drew gets him to sit back up. Drew guides Link with his hands like he’s scared Link could go out again. He instructs Link in a voice too quiet for Rhett to hear. Link nods and pulls the oxygen mask off his face to take in a deep breath. 

“Good,” Drew says, a little louder. “That’s good, take it slow.” 

Link obeys him. He takes in deep breaths and holds them until Drew is satisfied, and then Drew has him take in a few more. Stevie is on edge at Rhett’s side despite her attempt to appear otherwise; whatever it was that happened to Link scared the hell out of her, whether she is going to admit it or not. 

After a thorough checkup and even more thorough questioning, Drew claps Link on the shoulder and tells him, “I hope to see you again soon.” Link echoes the sentiment and finally, after what feels like hours, he looks up at Rhett. The confused, anxious expression on his face eases as they lock eyes. Before Rhett knows it, he is in Link’s arms and Link is wrapping his legs around Rhett’s waist as they embrace. 

“God, if anything happened to you…”

“But it didn’t.”

“If it did, I don’t know what I would have…”

“I’m okay, I’m sorry for scaring you, I don’t know what happened…”

“Don’t make me leave you for the night.” 

“Oh, Rhett.” Link pulls back just enough to brush noses with Rhett, his hands in Rhett’s hair. “I’ll be okay. It was a glitch. I have a lot of those, remember?”

“Not like that,” Rhett says. Link grimaces and Stevie makes a small, pained noise from behind Rhett. “Link, that was like…that was _human_.” 

“I know,” Link replies. It’s almost painful, how good it feels to be back in Link’s arms, back under Link’s hands. But Rhett is shaking and he can’t make himself stop. Thinking for a second that he might lose Link was too much for him, it seems, and Link starts to laugh as Rhett quakes in his arms. “Hey,” he says, breath washing over Rhett’s face. (When will he get used to that?) “Hey, nothing happened. I’m okay. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Rhett replies, because he does. At the moment, he could not care less about Stevie watching them, or the rules he put in place for himself. At the moment, all he can think is _I could have lost him. I could lose him. What would happen to me if I lost him?_

He might be a broken record, but so is everyone else in the room. Stevie recovers quickly from the shock of Link’s struggle, and she goes on to tell him all the things they want to try. He listens, nodding along, happy as could be despite the alarming side effects of created humanity. And Rhett does what he always does and he cages himself in his anxiety. He stands off to the side as Stevie tells Link about the procedure for giving him taste buds, and Link goes wide eyed at the thought. Rhett can hardly stand still, his head spinning, but he does the best he can. He satisfies the urge to run by gnawing at his cheek until it bleeds. By the time Stevie tells Link he should power down for a few hours to rest, Rhett has swallowed enough blood to make him nauseous. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rhett!” Link says, perking up from where he sits on the operating table as Rhett prepares himself to leave. “Don’t worry about me!” 

Rhett keeps it to himself that it’s an impossibility; Link must know that. He kisses Link’s face until Link giggles, and then he nuzzles against his cheek. Rhett should have known it would be too much to ask of his own self-control to keep himself from doing things like this. But he wants Link to know he loves him, just in case. Just to be sure. He says goodbye and Link says it back, and Rhett leaves him behind.

“I don’t really want to leave him here,” Rhett admits to Stevie as she leads him out to the lobby of the building, her long hair flying out behind her and into Rhett’s face. 

“I know,” she says. 

“You were horrified,” Rhett says. 

“I know,” she replies. 

“I don’t want to hear you telling me ever again that everything’s going to be fine. You lied to me every time you said it, didn’t you?” Rhett spits out a mouthful of Stevie’s hair and grabs for her hand to get her to stop walking. Close to the lobby, Rhett pulls her back. She scowls at him, her mouth a hard line, and when he lets go of her hand, she crosses her arms. 

“No, I know everything will be fine,” she lies. “Just like I know you’re going to keep fighting me, and Link is going to flourish, and everything is going to be fine. I know it, okay? I just do. Even if I get scared like you do. Happy? I get scared just like you. I admit it. Is that what you wanted?” Her scowl is not half as frightening as she wants it to be, but Rhett does not tell her so. 

“No,” Rhett says. 

“You don’t know what you want.”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, guess what, Rhett? You better decide. Because when Link gets everything he wants, he is going to have a mind that’s entirely his own. What are you going to do when he decides you’re holding him back?” 

It’s an unnecessarily mean-spirited thing to say and Stevie seems to realize as much as soon as it leaves her mouth. She does that a lot, letting things slip without thinking it through, but Rhett does the same. Instead of fighting her, he surprises her by going quiet. “That’s a good question,” he says. “I guess you’ll find out when I do.” 

Like she always does, Stevie softens. “Rhett, listen, I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s okay,” he says. “Really. Take good care of him tonight, okay? I’ll see you in the morning. Try to work on your bedside manner.” He leaves her in the middle of her attempt at an apology. She does not call him back. 

Rhett goes home to an empty house. The silence gets to him like it always does. Nothing ever changes except for the one thing Rhett wants to stay the same. He wants to keep Link, he wants Link to be his, and he wants Link to keep on wanting him. Everything else can change; Rhett would give up everything else to keep Link with him. Is that so wrong? 

Going to bed all alone scares Rhett more than it should. He goes to sleep with the bedroom door open as if Link might need him in the middle of the night, as if he might need to wake up and run. If Link needed him, Rhett would go, no matter the reason and no matter the time. 

But Link does not need him. Did he ever? 

Without a phone call, without the comfort of Link’s presence to lull him to sleep, Rhett lies awake late into the night. When he finally falls asleep, he has nightmares of an impossible future. He dreams of attending a funeral for Link, for his little robot who can do anything but die. It’s a horrifying image nonetheless and Rhett wakes up drenched in sweat. 

Where exactly was the tipping point between finding Link and losing himself? Rhett isn’t sure. All he knows is that it’s tougher than he wants it to be to sleep alone. He wants Link and he wants Link’s hands on him. It’s hard to fall back asleep knowing his fears will keep on chasing him into his dreams. When they do, he is still unprepared. 

No matter what comes his way, Rhett is always unprepared. What’s another night of being unsure on a sea of uncertainty? 

In the morning, Rhett is no closer to an answer for anything. 

 

Rhett is up early, before the sun, yawning as he eats breakfast. He sits hunched over a bowl of cereal and his phone, reading the local news for something to occupy his brain. If he keeps himself busy, it’s easier to stop worrying about what waits for him in Raleigh. Surely, he would have heard if something went wrong. Stevie would never leave Rhett in the dark if there was anything to worry about. Still, Rhett’s hand quakes almost too hard for him to hold his spoon as he counts down the minutes until he can head out the door. 

When he gives up on his breakfast, too anxious and queasy to eat much anyway, the doorbell rings. Rhett freezes halfway between the table and the kitchen. 

“Rhett?” The doorbell rings again as Rhett’s brother waits impatiently on the front porch. Rhett quickly weighs his options and decides against hiding and ignoring his brother. It’s been a long time since they last spoke. The last time, they fought like they had never fought before, slinging words that were meant to sting. Rhett does not want to see his brother. But even more than that, he doesn’t want Cole raising hell when Rhett ignores him. Without much of a choice, Rhett sighs and tosses his bowl into the kitchen sink.

“I’m coming!” Rhett calls. The doorbell rings one more time as Rhett announces his presence, and the high pitched keening starts to give him a headache right between the eyes. Most things tend to do that to him as of late. When Rhett pulls open the door, he finds his older brother in a suit, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pleated pants. 

“Hey,” Cole says. He rushes straight into what he wants to say like Rhett might slam the door in his face at any moment. “I’m just on my way to work and I…I don’t know. I took a little detour. I wanted to check up on you.” He pauses, gauging Rhett’s reaction to his unexpected visit. When Rhett does not attack him or yell or tell him to go away, he goes on. “How are you, man?” he asks. “I miss you. So do Mom and Dad. What have…what’ve you been up to?” As Cole looks at Rhett with a million questions in his eyes, Rhett tries to figure out which to answer first. It’s been a few months since he has seen his brother, but it feels like it could have been years. Judging by Cole’s knitted brow and restless, anxious eyes, he feels the same. 

“I’m fine,” Rhett says first. “I…yeah, I miss you guys, too. Do you…wanna come in?” 

Cole agrees. He steps over the threshold and Rhett closes out the crisp morning air. Standing in Rhett’s house, Cole looks even more unsure than he did outside. He works his lip between his teeth, rocking back and forth on his heels, and he looks around Rhett for a moment. It’s obvious what he’s looking for, but Rhett is still surprised when Cole asks, “Where’s Link?” 

“He’s not here,” Rhett replies. He’s not in the mood for an interrogation, already regretting his decision to let his brother in. But Cole’s eyes narrow as they meet Rhett’s, and an interrogation is exactly what Rhett is going to get. 

“Where is he, then?” 

“Look, he’s just not here. What about you, man? How have you been?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Cole says. “I was gonna say you look a little better than the last time I saw you. Is it because you’re living by yourself again?”

“Cole…” Rhett sighs. “No, that’s not it. I don’t _feel_ any better, so I can’t imagine how I _look_ better.” 

“Granted, you still look like hell, but like you’re starting to claw your way out of it.”

“Out of hell? All right, Cole, are _you_ okay? You’re being a little melodramatic here.”

“Just because I haven’t seen my little brother in months,” Cole says. “I missed you. Can you just tell me where Link is? I want to know that you’re okay. Did you get rid of him?”

“Look, why do you care?” Rhett snaps. “What does it matter to you?” He squares off against his brother for a moment, the two of them close enough to throw punches. Cole cedes first. 

“I just want to know what’s going on with you,” Cole says. “Is that a crime? You can’t lock yourself away and expect no one to notice.”

“Last time you were here, you said I was gonna wind up alone if I tried.”

“I know,” Cole says. He shuffles his feet on the carpet and looks down at his shiny black shoes. “I know I said some things that were way outta line. It’s not my place to…to dictate what equates to a good life. Okay? I did a lot of thinking, and that’s the real reason I came here. I wanted to tell you it’s okay. Whatever you’re doing, as long as you’re surviving, is good enough for me. I just love you. You can’t blame me for my concern.”

“No,” Rhett agrees. With his brother’s admittance of remorse, Rhett begins to feel some of his own. He missed Cole. He misses his parents, despite what they might think of him. When Rhett reaches out, Cole steps into the embrace. They hug in the middle of the living room, Cole’s arms tight around Rhett. 

“It’s good to see you,” Cole says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I’m sorry too.” Rhett pulls away, clapping Cole on the back and offering him a sincere smile. Cole returns the look with a sheepish smile of his own. 

“So…” Cole says, one hand on the back of his neck. “Where _is_ he, then? I think I should probably apologize to him.”

“He’s in Raleigh,” Rhett replies. He launches into the abridged version of the events of the past few weeks before he can tell himself not to. Whether Cole sides with him or not, Cole is here. His presence means the world to Rhett, and he figures he owes Cole the truth. He owes Cole a lot more than that, but the truth is a good place to start. 

“He’s…they’re…Rhett, he’s gonna be human?” Cole asks, dumbstruck and late for work as he absorbs Rhett’s story. 

“If everything goes right,” Rhett replies. 

“Gosh, Rhett, then he’ll be able to really…to _live_ , and to _love_ , and…wow.” 

“I know.” 

“Are you scared?”

“I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.” Rhett has lost enough for one lifetime, and the overhanging fear of losing yet again threatens to strangle him. Somehow, Cole’s warm and entirely human presence loosens the noose around Rhett’s throat enough to let him breathe. The easy conversation makes him feel a thousand times better than he did when he woke up. By the time Cole gets ready to leave, he’s two hours late for work and buzzing with excitement. His fears quashed by Cole’s enthusiasm, Rhett feels just as excited as Cole looks. 

“Don’t worry,” Cole says. “He’ll be fine. He’s tough. He’s really tough. So’re you.”

“Not at all,” Rhett scoffs in reply. 

Before he leaves, Cole drags him into a crushing hug. “God, I’m glad I stopped by,” he breathes in Rhett’s ear as he lets the hug linger. “I feel so much better knowing you’re working towards something so amazing.”

“Amazing,” Rhett echoes, sarcasm dripping from his voice loud enough for Cole to hear it.

“Okay, you _can_ worry,” Cole says, amending his previous order. “But everything will be fine. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. You deserve something great, Rhett. I’m so proud of you for reaching out to grab it.” 

Rhett has no idea what he could say to that without crying. Instead of trying, he claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezes. _Thank you_ , the gesture says. Cole gets the message. 

“Let me talk to him soon,” Cole says, tripping over nothing as he walks backwards down Rhett’s driveway. “I’m so…I’m so happy for him and for you I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t kill yourself!” Rhett suggests as Cole bumps into his car and nearly goes sprawling. 

“Good advice,” Cole replies as he hops into his car. “Don’t forget to call me. I love you.”

“Don’t be so sweet, Cole, it’s a weird look on you!” 

Cole flips Rhett off as he drives away. “Better!” Rhett cups his hands around his mouth to yell as his brother’s car turns a corner and disappears. 

Repairing the hole in Rhett’s relationship with his brother has him feeling almost giddy as he gets ready to make the drive to Raleigh. Later, he will call his mother. He will take the time to assure her that he’s fine, everything is fine, and he is happy. (A little white lie won’t hurt as long as happiness is the end goal, right?) The feeling of lightness in his chest follows Rhett all the way to the lab. He finds himself whistling as he drives, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the tune of the song on the radio. When he pulls into the parking garage, he feels lightheaded with anticipation. Wherever these dizzying feelings of hope come from, Rhett takes them. In the lobby of the lab, he greets Stevie with a smile so wide, her eyebrows go up in concern. 

“I’m fine,” he says before she can ask. “Can I just see him, please?” 

“He’s doing really well,” Stevie says over her shoulder as they head through the bustling lab. “He’s so happy, Rhett. I think he’s going to cry when he sees you.”

“Cry?!” Rhett asks, perplexed. 

“Mhm!” Stevie hums. “He might have a little surprise for you!” 

Rhett can tell by the excitement in Stevie’s voice that the promise of a surprise is supposed to excite him. But instead, his insides twist up at the thought of just what the surprise could be. He tries to get Stevie to tell him, at least to give a hint, but she tells him, “Link will want to show you himself! He’ll be so disappointed if I spoil it for him!” 

“Stevie, this isn’t the time for cute little secrets,” Rhett tries. But by the time Stevie hears the solemnity and the warning in Rhett’s voice, they stand outside the familiar metal door that leads to the operating room. Stevie looks up into Rhett’s face as if searching for petulance or for anger. Either she sees none or she ignores what she sees. 

“You’re right,” she says in the end, yanking open the door and letting Rhett inside. “Let him tell you, though. Okay?” 

Rhett does not have much of a choice. He follows Stevie, close on her heels as they dash down the hall, two pairs of anxious, heavy footsteps. Stevie looks back at him and Rhett ignores the trepidation in her face. Worrying is the last thing Rhett wants to do. All he wants is to see Link and to know that he’s okay. It feels like it’s been days since Rhett has seen him and weeks since he has held him. When Stevie leads the way into the operating room where Link waits, sitting perched on the metal table in the middle of the room, Rhett almost loses control of his weak knees. 

“Rhett!” Link says. Drew hovers over him with a penlight in his hand, checking Link’s eyes. When Link looks away from him to beam at Rhett, Drew takes a step back and pauses in his work.

“Good morning, Rhett,” Drew says as he slips the penlight into the pocket of his lab coat. 

“Cut the crap,” Rhett replies. “What did you do to him?” 

“Oh, Rhett, come here,” Link replies, cutting Drew off before he can do anything but stammer. Drew joins Stevie close to the open door of the operating room as Rhett obeys the quiet command of his little robot. He crosses the room and stands in front of Link, searching his face for something new. “No, come all the way here,” Link says. There’s mischief in his eyes instead of the worry and fear Rhett can feel in his own. 

Rhett steps in between Link’s open knees. 

“Closer!” Link says. He takes Rhett’s face in his hands, grinning madly, inches from Rhett’s mouth. And then he sticks out his tongue and licks Rhett right across the cheek. “I can taste you!” he crows. “I can…oh gosh, I can _smell_ you!” Link dips Rhett’s head to press his nose into Rhett’s hair and breathe him in. Rhett is too stunned to do anything but move with the insistence of Link’s hands. “Rhett!” Link cries. “You didn’t tell me you smell so nice! Oh gosh. Let me…”

Rhett has no time to stop Link before he makes another move. He tilts Rhett’s head up, drags him close, and kisses him. It’s a kiss as urgent as Link’s hands. Link kisses him, tasting him, making soft and happy noises as he chases the flavor of Rhett’s tongue. Rhett sinks into the kiss, his hands on Link’s hips, but the sound of tinkling laughter from behind him reminds him they are not alone. He pulls back to the sound of Stevie giggling at the display of affection. With Link’s hands still on his face, Rhett can only get so far. He looks into Link’s eyes with his mouth hanging open in shock. His jaw opens wide enough to crack when Link smiles at him and tells him something new.

“Rhett, I can see you,” Link says. His breath is warm on Rhett’s face, his knees tight around Rhett’s hips. His hands are feather light as they keep Rhett still, and…there is something different about his eyes. They are the same sparkling cerulean as they have always been, glittering under the lights on the ceiling. But something new burns within them, something Rhett has never seen before. _Life_. 

“No,” Rhett breathes. 

“Yes!” Link says. 

“Link, you’re kidding.”

“No! I have eyes, Rhett. And they itch when I cry and it tickles when my hair falls over them, and I can see you. You’re so pretty, Rhett. I knew that, I could tell, but to really see you? Oh, it’s wonderful.” 

“You…you like what you see?” Rhett asks. 

“I love what I see,” Link replies. He has nothing else to say. He drags Rhett into a frantic hug and Rhett stumbles into the embrace, falling into Link’s heaving chest. Link smothers his hair in kisses as Rhett buries his face in the underside of Link’s jaw, nuzzling into the stubble on his face. 

This is really happening. The progress speeds up and there is nothing Rhett can do to stop it. But Link can see him, Link can truly feel him, and isn’t that all Rhett wants? Link travels at breakneck speed, and as Rhett holds on tight, all he can do is try to keep up. Link is altered and the world fails to end. Nothing has changed in the way Link looks at Rhett. What does Rhett have to be afraid of? 

“I love you!” Link says, his hands in Rhett’s hair. “Oh, Rhett, I feel so _good_!” 

The joy in Link’s voice erases every last niggling fear from the back of Rhett’s mind. It eases away every little thing that has kept him lying awake at night. Link is happy and Rhett has to be happy, too. He owes Link more than a minute of borrowed happiness, but that is all Rhett has to give. For now, he gives it, passing joy into Link’s open hands. Link takes it and he smiles, brighter than Rhett has ever seen. 

“I do too, Link,” Rhett whispers in reply. And it does not matter, what the future might bring. It doesn’t matter at all, the other people in the room who wait for answers from Link. It doesn’t matter, none of it, nothing but the smile dancing on Link’s rosy lips. 

Link’s embrace threatens to strangle Rhett, but he figures it would not be such a bad way to go. 

 

Link has a convincing poker face, but it falls the moment he has Rhett alone. The calmness leaves his face at the same time that his hands begin to explore Rhett’s body. All the way home, Link has one hand on Rhett’s thigh, half twisted in his seat so he can tangle the other hand into Rhett’s hair. 

“What’re you doing?” Rhett ask even though he knows.

“Feeling you,” Link replies. And it’s too soon and Rhett’s heart hurts enough to constrict his throat, but when Link makes a move, Rhett falls into him. He nuzzles into the hand Link dances along the side of his jaw. He lets Link run his fingers along the slope of his shoulder, down his arm, down to his open hand. He closes his fingers around Link’s and squeezes. “Yeah?” Link asks. There’s a lot of weight in the single syllable. There’s a chance to back down, to back away, to say _never mind_. 

Rhett doesn’t take it.

“Yeah,” he replies. The smile Link gives him is worth the painful weeks of waiting for something close to this. 

When the two of them stumble through Rhett’s front door, Rhett preens as Link showers his throat in kisses. “Oh, Rhett, you taste so good,” Link sighs, breathy and low. Rhett lets the heat in his stomach build instead of willing it away like he should. It’s been so long since he and Link have shared kisses this desperate and touches this insistent. Rhett missed him terribly and is done missing him for the moment. 

“Rhett, oh Rhett, you smell so much _sweeter_ than I would have ever thought…”

Rhett laughs as Link trips him, sending them both tumbling to the loveseat. Link is quicker than Rhett and winds up on top, pinning Rhett to the loveseat by the hips and by the wrists. 

“I don’t know what to taste first,” Link says, his eyes glowing. His brand new pair of eyes widen as they take Rhett in, like they rebuild him from nothing but a vague memory. 

“Try my mouth,” Rhett says. Link obliges, dipping his head to lap hungrily at Rhett’s tongue. Rhett’s body responds eagerly to each slide of Link’s tongue against his. It’s been a long, long time, and Rhett doesn’t feel much like drowning anymore. He kicks to the surface and allows Link to pull him from a stormy sea. 

It can’t get more real than Link tasting every bit of Rhett’s bare skin that his tongue finds. 

“What’s it like?” Rhett asks, arching his back up to get closer to Link’s mouth. “Is it…is it as good as you were hoping?” 

“Better.” Link bites down on the side of Rhett’s throat, right next to his Adam’s apple. Rhett groans and digs his fingers into the small of Link’s back as his lithe little hips roll. 

“Good,” Rhett says. “That’s…that’s good.”

“Shh.” 

Rhett hushes. Link sits Rhett up to drag his shirt up over his head, moaning in pleasure at the new expanse of skin to nip and lick. Rhett tips his head back to give Link more. Link’s teeth are sharp and his breath a delicious new sensation on Rhett’s overheated skin. Link licks at his collarbones and bites at his chest, rolling his tongue over each of Rhett’s nipples until Rhett echoes his sweet, contented sighs. 

“I missed you,” Link says. The admission surprises Rhett out of his blissful reverie. “I missed your hands on me.” 

“I…” Rhett is about to admit the same, that he missed Link just as much, that it was just as hard on him. But it was his doing, the long weeks spent without touch, and he keeps it to himself. Link swallows up the words from Rhett’s mouth, his tongue slipping between Rhett’s teeth. For every return to Rhett’s mouth, Link goes lower on his way back down. He kisses Rhett’s lips and then he shimmies down the loveseat, sliding off to hit the floor on his knees. 

“Shh,” Link says before Rhett can tell him to stop. “Let me make you feel good.” He looks up at Rhett through long eyelashes, his hands on Rhett’s thighs and his tongue poking out between his teeth. “I just want to taste you.”

Rhett nods. “Okay.” He lies back, his legs dangling over one arm of the loveseat. Link licks his lips and flashes a grin that makes Rhett’s heart skip a beat. 

“Don’t worry about anything,” Link says. “Don’t think. Just know that I missed you, and I love you, and you don’t have to do a thing. You don’t even have to miss me or love me back. Just…”

“I did. I do. Link, God, you know I haven’t stopped loving you, don’t you? Not for a second.” 

Link pauses with his fingertips light on the button of Rhett’s jeans. “You didn’t?” he asks, all at once coy and quiet. His eyes gleam when they meet Rhett’s again. 

“No,” Rhett replies. He runs a hand through Link’s silky hair, tucking it behind his ears. He smiles as Link takes hold of Rhett’s hand in both of his own. 

“I was scared,” Link says, “that you were using all this time to change your mind about me.” 

“Link, do you ever worry that…?”

“No,” Link says. “Whatever it is, don’t say it now.” He kisses the pads of Rhett’s fingers one by one, flattening his tongue to taste his skin. 

“…you won’t feel the same about me once you get a brain of your own?” 

Link is stern when he replies. “I’ll feel the same,” he says. He bites down on Rhett’s pointer finger, his sharp teeth leaving marks across the knuckles. “I promise.”

“But what if you don’t? Did you ever think that you might only love me because…because you’re supposed to?” 

“Rhett.” Link clicks his tongue, shakes his head, and pops open the button of Rhett’s jeans. As he slides Rhett’s zipper down, his eyes follow his hand. “I may be programmed to be here for you…” he says. He touches lightly down on the inside of Rhett’s thigh, tiptoeing his fingers up towards Rhett’s burgeoning erection. Rhett watches his fingers just as intently as Link does. When they curl around Rhett’s cock, Link smiles at the sigh of relief Rhett releases to the ceiling. 

How he has survived this long without Link’s touch, Rhett has no goddamn idea. But Link touches him now, and Rhett moans as Link begins to stroke him through his underwear. 

“I may be programmed to care for you, Rhett,” Link says again, eyes on his own graceful hand. “But I know what love is. I know how to feel it. Don’t you believe I will still be able to once I have a mind that’s all my own? Don’t you believe that my feelings are strong enough to survive something like that?” Link lets go of Rhett to ease his jeans down and then his underwear. The glimmer in the little robot’s eyes as he wraps his hand back around Rhett is almost wicked. “Believe in me,” Link breathes. His breath ghosts across the hot head of Rhett’s cock and Rhett nods. With Link’s hand on him, he would believe anything. “Thank you,” Link says. He gives Rhett a few strokes, eliciting helpless, needy whimpers. 

Rhett is not apologetic about needing Link. Not now. Not anymore. Link has always known Rhett needs him. Why keep pretending he does not? 

“I can’t believe I finally get to find out what you taste like,” Link whispers. The reverence with which he speaks is almost as overwhelming as the motion of his hand. 

“Go on, then,” Rhett says, his hand in Link’s hair. “Taste me.” 

When Link takes Rhett into his mouth, his tongue tracing thick veins, Rhett lets his eyes slip closed. He missed this, he missed Link, more than he thought he did. It’s good, it’s so good, and Link moans as he laps up a pearly bead of pre-come. Rhett opens his eyes just in time to see Link’s close. 

“Oh, that’s _good_ ,” Link breathes, pulling back just enough to speak. He opens his eyes, looks up at Rhett, and makes a show of licking his lips. “I missed you,” he says one more time. And then he stops speaking. 

Rhett bites his lips, his tongue, the inside of his bicep, desperate to keep from crying out. Link knows how good he’s making Rhett feel. Rhett is making him feel good too, simply by cutting short the strange dance they have been dancing for weeks. The tiptoeing is over and so is the quiet. The space between them melts away and is replaced with Link’s sweet and perfect mouth. Rhett whines as Link tastes him, taking Rhett into his mouth and throat all the way to the hilt. When Link buries his nose in Rhett’s pubic hair and breathes him in, it’s all Rhett can do to keep tears from spilling down his cheeks. 

His overstuffed brain begins to empty. All that Rhett has room for is Link’s lips and his talented tongue, swirling around the sensitive head of his aching cock. He has not had a release in so long, preoccupied with thoughts that never do him any good. What’s the point of even thinking them? Rhett lets all thought drain away as Link brings him close to climax with his pretty, rosy mouth. 

He shies from all thoughts except for one: _this is real_. He reminds himself over and over and always, he forgets. But this is real. Link is real. He loves Rhett, no matter the reason, and as much as Rhett needs to stop living in the past, he needs to stop living in the future too. Right here, right now, Link loves him. And Rhett loves him back. 

Link presses kisses into the underside of Rhett’s cock, lapping hungrily at the pre-come that gathers at the tip and gliding his lips back down to the base. His rhythm is as graceful as the rolling of his tongue. As Rhett’s hips begin to buck up off the loveseat, sweat sticking him to the leather, Link holds him down. Link’s long eyelashes flutter against his hollowed cheeks as he breathes through his nose. He’s so beautiful, so _good_. Rhett has told him a million times before, but he should tell him a million times more. But he’s on fire, Link’s mouth the relief he has craved for weeks. He has no time to shower Link with the praise that he deserves. (Later, later Rhett will tell him. He will.) 

“Oh, Link, I’m…I’m…” He grips Link’s hair, teetering on the edge. For the first time, when Rhett pulls, Link yelps in pain. Rhett almost stops everything. But Link’s whine of pain turns into a sweet, soft moan that only tilts up in pitch when Rhett pulls harder on his hair. The tears matting Link’s eyelashes prove to be too much for Rhett. He comes, his back arching up off the loveseat, and Link pins him to swallow him down. Link’s half-lidded eyes roll back as he swallows, his hands digging bruises into Rhett’s hips. Tears leave splash marks on Link’s glasses, salt drying on the lenses. 

Rhett focuses on the fogged glass and the blue eyes behind each lens as Link licks a long stripe up Rhett’s length to collect every last drop of pearlescent come. Link shudders, his tongue painted white, and one more time, he swallows. With that, he drops his head to nuzzle into the inside of Rhett’s thigh. “Oh, Rhett,” he breathes. He kisses Rhett’s trembling thigh and tastes the sweat on his skin. “Oh, Rhett, I knew it would be good. I knew it’d be so, so good. I just didn’t know it’d be _this_ good.” 

“ _You’re_ good,” Rhett replies, utterly nonsensical. He can’t think of anything but Link’s mouth on him and he doesn’t care how silly he sounds. Link loves him just the same, no matter what terrible, ridiculous, or lousy things escape him. 

When Link props his chin on Rhett’s hip to look up at him, Rhett smiles. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Thank you,” Link replies. He pauses, turning his head to press his lips to Rhett’s navel. Into his skin, he whispers, “I’m almost there, baby.”

Rhett doesn’t say _you’ve always been there_. Instead, he cards Link’s hair back with slow and lazy fingers and delights in the feeling of Link’s hungry eyes all over him. He drags his pants back up and Link laughs as he fumbles with the button, swatting his hands away and doing it up for him. “C’mere,” Rhett says. Link comes. He lays on top of Rhett, the two of them far too big for the tiny loveseat. They cram onto it anyway, long limbs dangling and tangling up together. With his face pressed to Rhett’s bare chest, Link tells Rhett he loves him. Rhett says it back. 

“Don’t be scared of my new heart, Rhett,” Link breathes. “Or my new brain. Whatever I get, I promise I won’t feel any different about you.” He speaks sincerely, but Rhett shushes him. 

“No promises,” Rhett says. “Can you do that for me? Don’t make any more promises.” 

Link pauses with his hand pressed flat over Rhett’s pounding heart. “Okay,” he says. “No more promises. I promise.” 

Rhett laughs, cradling Link in his arms. Their voices mingle as Link laughs with him. Everything that has seemed so unattainable for weeks begins to feel closer. Closure, security, belonging, and even real, easy love are almost in Rhett’s grasp. He tightens his arms around Link until he squeaks in pain, and in apology, Rhett offers up soft kisses to the top of Link’s head. 

Rhett is dozing before he realizes, jerking awake under the heavy but lovely weight of Link. 

“Hey,” Link breathes. He traces patterns on Rhett’s chest with idle fingers, his head nestled in the crook of Rhett’s neck. 

“Hey,” Rhett replies. 

“Don’t make any promises,” Link says, “but I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Will you still love me when I have a brain that isn’t mine?”

“Yes.” 

“Is your love stronger than your fear?”

Rhett pauses. “I think so,” he says. 

“Don’t make any promises,” Link says again. “But can you remember that next time you feel afraid?” 

“Yeah, Link,” Rhett says. “I can try.” 

For Link, he can. 

“Don’t promise,” Link says. “But keep getting better every day.”

“Okay.” 

“And don’t promise, but…but…oh, gosh.” Link yawns, his jaw creaking, and Rhett freezes. 

“Link?” he asks. 

“Rhett, they…oh, _gosh_ , is this really how it feels to be tired?” 

As Link yawns again, Rhett tightens the arm he has wound around him. “Link, are you…?”

“I can sleep,” Link whispers. He chuckles, his voice going soft at the edges as he heaves a happy sigh. “Surprise.”

“Link!”

“I haven’t done it yet,” he says. “This will be the first time.” 

“Oh, Link.”

“Hey, wait,” Link says, dragging himself from the edge of sleep to prop his chin on Rhett’s collarbone. “Hey, don’t promise me anything.”

“Okay?” Rhett replies. He’s dizzy, overwhelmed, lost in all the things that Link can do. They can fall asleep together, tangled painfully up on the loveseat, sticky with sweat, sated and warm. 

“But love me still when I wake up, okay?”

“When you wake up,” Rhett echoes in disbelief. And then, “Yeah, Link. Yeah, I will.” 

“Thank you,” Link breathes. Rhett does not dare to sleep as Link drifts off, choosing instead to watch him breathe as sleep carries him away. It’s nothing like powering down, the way Link looks when he sleeps. He is in full motion, breathing lightly, his lips parted and eyes fluttering. Rhett watches him for a long, long time. Link’s brow furrows as he sleeps, smoothing out when Rhett kisses him right between the eyebrows. Rhett plucks Link’s glasses from his face and places them on the floor before kissing Link again, this time on one cheek. 

“What’re you dreaming?” Rhett whispers. He gets nothing in reply. But for all the fear of the past few months, for all the panic Rhett has fought, it was all worth it just to watch Link sleep. 

The peace on Link’s face would be worth going through all of it a million times over. 

Rhett falls asleep with Link in his arms and the tightness in his chest easing bit by bit. He sleeps soundly, warm underneath his little robot, and when he wakes up, the promise he did not make has been kept just the same. He still loves Link. And in the present, forgetting the things that came before and the things yet to come, that is all that matters. 

That is what Rhett tells himself, anyway.


	10. Untamed Heart

Link’s body becomes a list of bits and pieces. He becomes a checklist, and he is more than happy to do everything that is asked of him. Equipped with the brand new ability to sleep, he has trouble powering down for operations and tests. It makes him anxious to power himself down and instead, Drew begins to administer general anesthesia to put him under. (Watching Link go under makes Rhett anxious, but he does not tell him so.) Link’s grogginess and droopy eyes upon coming out of it are so human, it makes Rhett laugh to see. His anxieties leave him every time Link leaves sleep behind, coming out of being under with a twisted tongue and a slow smile on his face. 

“Good morning,” he jokes every time, and every time, Rhett indulges him with a smile of his own. 

Link struggles with things that take Rhett by surprise. Rhett is used to tiredness, to sore limbs, to hunger and to changes in mood. To Link, something as simple as falling asleep when he wants to be awake is reason for distress. 

“How do you _do_ this?” Link asks, leaning on Rhett’s shoulder on the living room loveseat. “I want to stay up with you, but I’m just…so…” He yawns, makes a sad sound of protest when Rhett’s laughter jiggles him, and finishes his sentence. “ _Tired_.” 

“Get used to it, sweetheart,” Rhett says. “I’m tired a lot more often than I’m not.” 

“You are?”

“Yeah.” Rhett squeezes Link’s knee and Link shifts, drawing his legs up and turning his body closer to Rhett’s side. The closeness gives Rhett both a racing heart and a satisfied heat in his limbs, no matter how many times the two of them cuddle close like this. Link has been given a break, time to get used to his new body and the things it can do. In only a week, he is due for one of the final missing pieces: a heart. Rhett tries not to think about it. If he dwells on the upcoming operation, he feels he is apt to run away with Link in the middle of the night just to keep it from happening. The closer it looms, the more powerful the urge to leave becomes, but for Link, Rhett tries to ignore the cowardly part of his brain. Rhett knows Link ignores bigger things for him, and doing the same for Link is the least that Rhett can do. 

“Are you tired right now?” Link asks.

“A little,” Rhett replies. 

“Then why are we sitting here? Let’s go to bed.” Link rises, offers one hand to Rhett, and begins to drag him up off the loveseat before Rhett has time to catch up. 

“Link, it’s not even eight o’clock!” 

“I’m tired, you’re tired,” Link replies, eyes sparkling, dancing on the spot. “What’s the point of being tired out here? Come to bed with me!” If Rhett intends to resist, it’s only for a moment. When Link pulls on his hand, he goes. 

“We’re going to sleep, right?” Rhett asks. But he knows the glimmer in Link’s eyes better than that. Link is feeling mischievous, excited, and his animation is contagious. Rhett starts to laugh at the same time Link does as the two of them spill together onto Rhett’s bed. “Is that a no?” Rhett asks. 

“Yeah,” Link replies, rolling over to pin Rhett to the bed, hands bracketing Rhett’s head. He grins wickedly with his mouth inches from Rhett’s. “That’s a no.” He surges forward and captures Rhett’s lips in a kiss, laughter bubbling between them. 

“Thought you were tired,” Rhett teases between kisses. “Or was that a…” Link kisses him hard and cuts him off. When Link lets him back up for air, it takes Rhett a long moment to remember what he was saying. “A ploy to get me here.” He no longer makes it a question. He knows the answer, anyway. 

“Mmm, you know me too well,” Link says. His body presses Rhett’s down, his hips wriggling and his knees urging Rhett’s apart. “I’m gonna have to ask for a whole new personality if I want to stay mysterious.” 

The simple thought gives Rhett pause, but only for a beat. When Link pulls away to smile down at him, Rhett takes the moment to regain some semblance of composure. (Link’s body tends to take it away, and it gets harder and harder to get back.) “When have you ever been mysterious?” Rhett teases. “You’ve been an open book since the day I met you, baby.” 

“Not true,” Link replies. He nuzzles contentedly into the hand Rhett slides up his face, his eyes gleaming as Rhett brushes a thumb across his cheekbone. “You had to figure me out. A little. You were befuddled by me.”

“Befuddled?” Rhett laughs. 

“Bemused,” Link replies. He turns his face to kiss Rhett’s open palm and then he bites down, not hard enough to hurt but just hard enough to keep Rhett captive. 

“Confused,” Rhett agrees. Link nods. 

“Mhm,” he hums. 

“And how do I feel now, then?” Rhett asks, blissful under the weight of Link’s shining eyes. 

“You love me,” Link replies. No hesitation, no pause for breath. Link knows and he knows with utter certainty that Rhett loves him. How is it that a man with a brain made of whirring machinery can be so much surer of the world around him than a human being can? “You love me so much you don’t know what to do. You’re scared. You don’t want to lose me. You’re excited for all the things that I’m gonna get to do. You’re happy, and you’re lost, but more than anything else, you’re in love.”

“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” Rhett teases. Link is beautiful as he beams in reply. 

“I do,” Link says. “I know I’m remarkable. I know I must be, for someone as good as you to love me like you do.” 

Rhett pauses. Link seizes the moment of quietness to surge forward and press his lips to Rhett’s. When he pulls back, Rhett tells him the truth. “I’m not good,” he says. “Not as good as you.” But if Link thinks he is something special because of the way Rhett loves him, does it not make sense for Rhett to feel the same way about himself? He can hardly focus on the implications of being something good with Link’s eyes on him. He squirms, restless under Link’s body, and Link leans in again to capture Rhett’s lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. This time when he pulls away, Link is the one to speak. 

“You are the best person in the world,” Link says. “I refuse to hear otherwise. You love me, and you care for me, and you would do anything for me. You’re selfless, Rhett. Doesn’t that make you good?” 

“I…”

“Don’t tell me you’re anything but a miracle,” Link breathes. 

“You’re the miracle,” Rhett replies. 

“Hey…” Link says, and Rhett goes still beneath him as he leans in close. With his forehead pressed to Rhett’s, Link dips into a whisper. “Hey, we can talk all night about who is the man worthy of admiration here. Or we can agree to love each other, to keep on loving each other no matter what, and to make love all night long. What do you say, Rhett? You want to keep fighting me on who’s the better man? Or do you want to show me?” 

Rhett does not need to be asked again.

Link squeaks in pleased surprise when Rhett rolls them over and presses a row of deep, bruising kisses into Link’s skin. (Will Link’s skin ever be able to bruise? Will a beating heart and a blood flow give him the marks that Rhett wants desperately to leave on him?) 

Whatever comes next, Rhett loves him. Whatever the next advancement brings, Link will love him back. As long as Rhett can remember that, stow it away in his pocket and take it out when he needs it, he will be all right. He will survive this. He will let Link go and he will trust him to come back. Whatever a new day brings, Link was made for Rhett. Link was made to love him, to cherish him, to do anything for him. And Rhett has known from the start that he was made to do the same for Link. 

Whatever happens tomorrow, the next day, next week, next year, Rhett is loved. What else matters? 

Link gets the upper hand and kisses Rhett until his head spins. Nothing else matters. Nothing else matters at all. 

 

The week goes by far faster than Rhett would like, of course it does, and Link prepares himself for a night spent away from home. He hums to himself as he brushes his long hair out in front of the mirror, his tongue poking out between his teeth. He’s happy and thrumming, so excited he looks like he could erupt at any moment. And somehow, Rhett catches every bit of the elation that Link exudes. Rhett is happy, too, despite the alarm bells and the fear causing chaos in his chest. He’s happy because Link is happy, and it’s almost easy to get into the car and take Link back to Raleigh. 

In the car, Link fidgets, reaching for Rhett’s hand and holding it in his lap in both his own. He rubs his thumbs idly across the back of Rhett’s hand as he looks straight out at the road. 

“What’re you thinking?” Rhett asks. He chances a glance at Link to find him with his lips turned down and his eyes glassy. 

“I know it’s stupid,” Link says, “but I can’t help but worry.”

“About what?” Rhett asks. 

“I know that feelings and…and love…those things are not in your heart. Not really. But I can’t help but worry that by replacing my heart with a new one, I might change.” 

Rhett keeps his mouth shut instead of reminding Link of the solemn almost-promises he made. Instead, he says, “You’re still gonna be the same you, honey.” He squeezes Link’s searching fingers and Link squeezes back, his frown easing up just a touch. 

“And if I’m not,” Link says, mischief making his brand new eyes gleam. “If I’m not, just call me honey and I’ll come right back to you.” The coy smile turning up the corners of his eyes makes Rhett feel like refusing to let him go. But the lab is close and home is behind them and Rhett has no choice. He has to let Link make all the choices. He has to let Link choose to be happy. And he has to allow himself the same luxury. (Why does he keep forgetting that happiness is an easy choice to make?) 

 

“I love to see two smiling faces!” Stevie chirps as she greets them in the lobby of the lab. She claps Link on the back and tilts her chin up to echo Rhett’s smile, her eyes sparkling. “What are we so happy about today, boys?” 

“I’m almost a real boy!” Link teases in reply, and Stevie’s answering laugh bounces off the walls almost as raucously as Link does himself. All the way down the long, long halls, Stevie and Link bounce off one another, the two of them so excited it’s dizzying to watch. Rhett’s head spins by the time they make it past the heavy metal door. He catches up Link’s hand and holds it tight, unsure if trying to say anything would be wise. He’s liable to give Link pause, to make him wonder if he’s doing the right thing, to make him worry. So he keeps quiet as he runs out of time to call it off. (Of all the choices he can make, calling it off is the only that is simply not an option.)

“How are you doing today, Tin Man?” Drew asks of Link, just as happy and exuberant as Stevie. 

“Oh, don’t call him that,” Stevie says with a roll of her eyes. But Link laughs and tells her it’s fine, it’s all fine, and today, the Tin Man is exactly who he is. 

“And then I’ll be the Scarecrow,” Link says, hopping up on Drew’s examination table with Rhett hovering at his side. “And then once I get my brain…well, I don’t know who I’ll be then.” He says it lightly, a smile on his face. Even so, Rhett’s stomach turns at the thought of Link being anything but _Link_ upon coming out of his final major surgery. He gives his head a shake and reminds himself to be good, to be present, to be encouraging and brave. If Link is the Tin Man, Rhett is the Cowardly Lion, in desperate need of a dose of courage. He finds it in the strength of Link’s hand as his long fingers curl protectively around Rhett’s. “I’m okay, Rhett,” Link says as Drew begins to poke and prod at him. He nudges Rhett to the side to get at Link and the scowl Rhett feels blooming on his face makes Link giggle. 

“Oh, hush,” Rhett says, and that only makes Link’s smile widen. 

“You would hate for me to hush,” Link says. “You love nothing more than the sound of my voice.”

“I don’t know how I feel about your cockiness,” Rhett teases. Making light of the changes to Link is one of the easiest ways to pretend that nothing terrible could come of them. So Rhett keeps going. “Maybe I want you to change! Maybe Drew could install something to make you a little more humble?”

“Oh, I would never,” Drew says. Rhett catches him as he looks up and winks at Link. “I like him full of himself. It’s endearing.”

“You don’t have to live with him!” Rhett replies. Stevie laughs her high, tinkling little laugh and eases another inch away from the vice around Rhett’s chest. He feels almost good again by the time Drew finishes examining Link and determines him fit for surgery. 

“This is a big one,” Drew says. Rhett stands at Link’s side as Drew drops a hand onto Link’s knee and explains the things Link will feel as a man with a beating heart. “It will take some getting used to, I’m sure,” Drew says. Almost imperceptibly, the longer Drew goes on, the tighter Link holds onto Rhett’s hand. “This is by far the most complex operation we have yet to attempt. It’s going to be scary for all of us, I’m not going to lie. I can’t tell you that it will be uncomplicated and easy. It’s going to be a long process, for us and for you, and I just want to be sure you understand that. Do you?” 

Link nods. “I understand completely,” he says. Rhett, on the other hand, wants Drew to shut his mouth and stop scaring the hell out of him. He knows he needs to listen, but every word twists up Rhett’s insides until he feels close to dropping to his knees. 

“Introducing a blood flow into your artificial veins is the part we are most concerned with,” Drew says. “We can’t be sure how your body will react. It’s an incredibly intricate structure, the human circulatory system, and we are going to do our best to recreate it. You may experience complications, just like with every previous surgery, and I need you to be aware of what we need from you.”

“What’s that?” Rhett asks at his little robot’s side. Link squeezes his fingers and he squeezes back. 

“We need you to come to us immediately if you feel you are at risk,” Drew says. “That’s all. If something feels wrong, even by the smallest degree, can you promise to come to us and let us help? We’ve come so far, Link, and we don’t want anything to hurt you now. Do you understand?”

“I understand completely,” Link says again, solemn as he sits with his hand and Rhett’s in his lap. “It’s important. I’m important. I know.” 

At that, Drew beams. “I’m so happy you know how important you are, Link,” he says. “That’s exactly what I want to hear. Now, are you ready?” 

Like always, as ever, Link is. And Rhett will never be. Even so, Link nods, Link beams, and Rhett prepares himself for another night spent fearing loss. He’s not afraid to admit to Stevie as much. As Drew gets ready to put Link under, Rhett tells her the truth from the other side of the room. “Every time,” he says. “Every damn time, I’m sure I’m gonna get a phone call from you, telling me that you were wrong. That you messed up, that you…” 

Stevie puts a hand on Rhett’s elbow as if to steady him as she looks up into his face, waiting for him to go on. He swallows hard before trying. 

“That you lost him,” he says. And Stevie tells him the same thing she always does: nothing will happen. Link will flourish. He will recover and he will wake up brand new. He will be perfectly, wonderfully, beautifully human. Rhett nods and tells her the same thing he always does: he tries, but he does not much believe her. 

“Believe in him, then, if you don’t believe in us,” Stevie says. Only then does she let go of the tight grip she has on him; only then does she smile again. And Link said the same thing, a fervent whisper of _believe in me_. Who is Rhett to say no to that? “He’s so, so strong,” Stevie says. Like Rhett has no idea, like she has not told him so a million times before. “He’s going to do great.” 

Rhett takes up Link’s hand and presses a kiss to each knuckle in lieu of saying goodbye. Link looks up at him with wide eyes. He knows exactly what each press of Rhett’s lips means. 

“Next time I see you,” Link says, voice stern beneath the slightest shimmy, “I will be able to love you a thousand times more than I already do. Why be scared when you know that that is the only outcome?” 

“Wise words for someone without a brain,” Rhett says, only to lighten the frightening heaviness of the moment. In return, Link gives his head a bemused little shake. When raven locks of hair fall over his eyes, Rhett brushes them back. He resists the urge to kiss Link silly, to grab hold of him and give him a long, painful, drawn out goodbye. Instead, he pulls back and offers up a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “Good luck.” 

“Love you,” Link replies. He’s earnest, overexcited, and impatient, but still he indulges Rhett in a selfish moment. 

“I love you,” Rhett says. And he has nothing else to say. He leaves Link in the operating room and he follows Stevie back down the long hallways, back towards the morning sun. He’s dazed, anxious, and heavy-hearted to the point of being unable to do much more than take the long walk to the lobby one step at a time. All he can think about is Link’s face and the tight grip they had on one another’s shaky hands. Daylight streaming through the windows in the lobby is what drags Rhett back to Earth. 

“We’ll call you,” Stevie says. She looks up at him, her eyes open wide, and she does something to surprise him. She takes a step closer and envelops him in her arms. It takes Rhett a moment to return the embrace, and when he does, Stevie squeezes him tight. “They’re going to put you in history books, Rhett,” she breathes into his chest. And Rhett has heard it all before from other people, the same exact thing, but it still does not make him feel better to hear. “You and Link are going to be so, so important. When the things we learn from him begin to save lives…oh, Rhett, I just hope you know how special you are. You do know, don’t you?” When she pulls away, there are tears sparkling in her eyelashes. Rhett shocks himself by laughing as he carefully dabs them away with his sleeve. 

“You too,” he says. “What am I? I’m just the guy who fought you every step of the way. I’m the bad guy. The guy who told you that you couldn’t. You’re the one who’s made all this possible, Stevie. You really think anyone will wanna write a book about me?”

“Yes,” she sniffles. “It’s love stories people are after, Rhett. And that story’s yours.” She pauses, no longer looking him in the eye. “Who am I?” she asks. “I’m the one who keeps ripping you two apart.” She smiles wanly before reaching out to squeezes Rhett’s hand. “In your story, _I’m_ the bad guy. Guess we’ll just have to see which story it is the people want to hear.” 

 

Rhett spends his night alone making himself queasy by watching videos of vein reconstruction on Youtube. How ABT Inc. is going to build an entire circulatory system from scratch is far beyond Rhett, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to learn as much as he can. Curiosity gets the better of him and he watches videos in bed with his blanket pulled up close to his eyes. When it gets to be too much, he buries his face in the blanket and takes deep breaths until he no longer feels close to passing out. It’s bloody and it’s messy, the human body is, and Rhett tries not to think of what Link is going through as he sits alone in his bed. It won’t do him any good to stay up all night worrying. But that doesn’t stop him from doing so. 

When he finally falls asleep, he startles himself awake out of dreams about scalpels and blood, surgical masks and clicking machines. He hauls himself out of bed and makes coffee well before dawn, too anxious to try going back to sleep. More than once he picks up his phone, intent on calling and demanding an update on Link. He talks himself out of it every time. 

“You’re being stupid,” he tells himself, giving his reflection a stern talking-to in the bathroom mirror. “You always do this. He’s fine. You know he’s fine. Just be patient, for once in your life.” In reply, his reflection frowns. What else did Rhett expect? 

Rhett manages to calm down, to sit down, to wait in front of the morning news like the silence from his phone isn’t eating him away. Morning comes and the sun comes with it, not a cloud in the springtime sky. And as the day begins to wear away and Rhett hears nothing, he begins to fret all over again. He picks his phone up and sets it down; he paces, he chews his nails, and he tries to think of a way to occupy his brain. The only thing he comes up with is going back to watching videos that scare the hell out of him, videos of all the ways in which even the simplest surgery could go wrong. 

Why in the world does he do this to himself?

Midafternoon has Rhett slamming his laptop shut, opening it again, and spending the next few hours applying to jobs. It’s tedious and boring and more than a little scary, and despite the anxiety settling in the back of his mind, he finds himself tilting sideways on the sofa as he dozes off. He takes his exhaustion as an excuse to while away the rest of the day sleeping alone on the couch. Somehow, when he wakes up to the sun setting, he is surprised to find the same old words as always coming to him: pathetic. Alone. Pitiful. No matter how much time passes, he can’t seem to stop thinking of himself that way. He’s the man who will always screw up, who will always sleep alone, who will never, ever feel better. 

Why is it one night away from his little robot has him clawing at the walls? 

Rhett bustles around the kitchen for something to do, something to help stop the shaking of his hands and the shakiness of his resolve. He tosses out old bottles of condiments and rearranges the spice cabinet. He turns on music, something loud and annoying to fill the loud and annoying parts of his racing mind, and he cleans corners of the kitchen he has not cleaned in years. The dust that gets in his face is the sole reason for the tears in his eyes. Why the hell would he be crying? He’s past that; he’s past the terrible self-loathing. 

One slip of his hand and one broken glass in the sink later, he knows better. He hunches over the kitchen sink, his head hung low, and he fights harder than he should have to just to keep his lip from quivering. What would Link think of him standing here like this, eyes wet from a pile of broken glass? (Link would love him anyway.) Link would be disappointed in him; Link would tell him to smile. Why the hell is it so hard for Rhett to smile? _Be happy_ , Rhett orders himself. It does not seem like much to ask. But it feels impossible, the weight pressing down on Rhett’s chest, and before he knows it, he has his laptop on the kitchen counter and a question on his fingertips. 

_How do I learn to be happy?_ he types. The moment he types it, he knows: he is not going to find the answers in a search engine. He scrolls anyway, past articles touting yoga and mindfulness, new exercises and diets. He doesn’t read a word as he breezes by countless articles that don’t seem to say a thing. No, the answer isn’t here. It’s with the robot who seems to know a hell of a lot more about the world in which he lives than Rhett ever will. 

He tries a different command, a request posed to him by Link, one he has spent hours pondering. _Teach me how to feel real_ , he types. 

And he gets nothing he did not already know. It’s a lot to ask for, being real, and the more Link asks for it, the less Rhett feels it’s attainable for him. He’s less real than Link is, less human. He’s heavy and sad and tired, feeling older than he should, and where Rhett is beaten down and lost, Link is bright and beautifully alive. 

What does Rhett have to do to get that? The first chance he gets to ask Link, he’s going to. Link will have the answer. He always does. 

Rhett sits with his head buried in his hands and waits for the call that takes far too long to come. 

 

Close to midnight, Rhett is jolted out of sleep by the ringing of his phone. His voice is crackly when he tries to answer it, but even so, Stevie is there to talk him out of restless dreams. 

“Hey, Cowardly Lion,” she says. “Your Tin Man is waiting for you.” 

Rhett doesn’t need to hear anything else. He holds the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he throws his shoes on without bothering to do up the laces. He throws a jacket on as Stevie soothes him through the phone; he babbles anxious nothings as she tells him over and over that it’s okay, it’s fine, he’s good, Link is good. “Stevie,” he says as he throws himself into his car. “Stevie, is he still…?”

Somehow, she knows what he wants without him having to ask for it. “He’s still yours, Rhett,” she says. “Still your Link. I promise. He can’t wait to see you.” 

“Oh, God,” he breathes, and Stevie indulges him in the long, long moment he spends trying to keep himself from crying. Relief makes him weak and he sees stars as he starts the car. 

“Hey, deep breaths,” Stevie says. There’s comfort in her voice, calmness that she tries to lend to Rhett, and he does his best to take it all in. “What are you so scared of? He’s fine, Rhett. He’s fine!” She starts to laugh to cover up the fact that she’s close to tears too. He can hear it in the edges of her feather-light voice, the cracks that lead to crying. It’s only the threat of being the cause of her tears that helps Rhett stop it before it begins. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m coming.” He tries to speak bluntly but his voice quivers. 

“Okay,” she replies. “Okay, see you soon.” 

Rhett hangs up the phone, yanks on his seatbelt, and heads out on the road. The drive is agonizingly long, longer than it has ever felt before. Next time he will sleep at the lab, on the floor if he has to, if only to avoid the hour of telling himself over and over that everything is fine. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s all fine, but with every minute Rhett is more unsure. Stevie would never lie to him, not now, but he can’t help but worry that the shake in her voice is due to something more than empathy. Something went wrong, Link is damaged beyond repair, and Rhett is going to be faced with something that’s no longer his once he finally gets through the laboratory doors. 

When he arrives, Stevie is waiting outside for him. It’s far too cold out for her to be out in her lab coat, but she’s waiting for him anyway. She greets him by the door and leads him inside by the hand, dragging him along like an excited child. Her elation tells Rhett everything he needs to know: the panic that kept him up all night didn’t have to at all. Link is okay. Link is fine. If he wasn’t, if something was horribly wrong, Stevie would not be looking back at Rhett with her happy face open wide. Instead of the choking fear of loss, Rhett begins to feel something closer to hope. 

“Stevie, why are you looking at me like that?” Rhett asks as she pulls him towards the operating room. She cranes her neck to stare, stumbling along down the hall, and she laughs as she answers. 

“Like what?” she asks.

“Like you’ve never been so excited in your entire life.”

“I haven’t!” she crows. Her hand is small and cold in his as she squeezes his fingers, almost bouncing off the big metal door to the operating room. “Rhett, you don’t understand! He can _bleed_! He’ll bleed when he skins his knees, and he’ll bleed if you hit him in the face! He’ll bleed if he bites his tongue, or if he cuts himself shaving…oh, Rhett, you can’t tell me that doesn’t make you happy!” She pauses just outside the final door between Rhett and his little robot and looks up into his face. “Oh, Rhett, can you believe this is possible? Can you believe all the things we’ve learned? And all the things we’re going to learn? Don’t tell me this doesn’t excite you as much as it does me!” 

Rhett pauses with Stevie’s wide eyes all over him. “It’s great, Stevie,” he says. “It really is. I’m happy that we can help. I am. But right now, you have to understand that I really don’t give a shit. Can I just see him now? Please?”

Stevie’s answering laughter is the best reply Rhett could have expected. She leads the way and she opens the door and then there he is, Link with his hands clasped in his lap, looking small in the middle of a massive hospital bed. 

“Hey there,” Link says. 

“Hey yourself,” Rhett replies. And then he’s in Link’s arms, holding tight to him like he never thought he would see him again. (Didn’t he think just that?) Link squeaks with happiness as Rhett clutches him, clutching back just as tightly. He’s strong, he’s so strong, and Rhett is going to have a hard time ever letting him go again. 

“Rhett, you’re hurting me!” Link says. Instead of releasing him, Rhett only loosens his grip. Link laughs and so does Stevie, but Rhett doesn’t feel much like laughing. It gets harder every time to walk away from Link, and this time was nearly impossible. This time nearly killed Rhett as he waited, but Link is here and Link is fine and there’s nothing to be afraid of. Not now. It just takes Rhett’s tired brain a moment to catch up and get the news. By the time he pulls away, holding Link at arms’ length, he feels good enough to smile. Link smiles back, pretty and glowing even under sickly silver fluorescent lights. “You were worried!” Link accuses, and Rhett can do nothing but nod. “Don’t worry,” Link says. “I can bleed now.” 

“That’s comforting,” Rhett chokes, and Link doesn’t hesitate to wipe at his streaming eyes. 

“Don’t worry and don’t cry,” Link says. 

“Then please do me a favor,” Rhett says, knees shaking so hard he has to sit on the edge of Link’s bed. 

“What’s that?”

“Keep your blood in your body now that you’ve got it, yeah?” 

“I’ll do my best, Rhett,” Link says. 

Rhett nods, his hands on Link’s face, Link’s hands clasped around his forearms. “Me too,” he says. Link smiles and Rhett returns the gesture as best he can. If Link promises to try his best, it’s the least Rhett can do to try and do the very same. Right?

 

A beating heart delights Link beyond words. He blushes when Rhett so much as looks at him, his cheeks going pink under Rhett’s eyes. His chest flushes as he stands under the hot water of the shower, and he scares the hell out of Rhett by screaming for him the first time he walks into the coffee table in the living room. 

“Look!” he says. He pulls up one leg of his jeans to show off the fresh bruise on his shin, a gleeful smile lighting up his face. “Oh, Rhett, look!” 

“It’s nice, Link!” Rhett teases in reply, dragging Link into his arms. 

“I bruised, Rhett!” Link squeaks into the crook of Rhett’s neck. “Oh, can you believe it?”

“No,” Rhett answers honestly. “No, I really can’t.” 

After that, they don’t say anything for a while. Link leads Rhett to bed and he lets himself be led. Link pulls his shirt up over his head and Rhett follows suit. They fall into bed together and Link takes Rhett’s hand in both of his own. He places Rhett’s palm on his chest and beams as Rhett smiles at the beating of his heart. 

“It’s real now,” Link breathes. “It’s a real heart and it’s all mine.” 

Rhett takes in his wide blue eyes, his long eyelashes, his plump lips, and the blush creeping up into the apples of his cheeks. He takes in the way his dark hair falls over one eye, the way his eyes crinkle up as he beams. And he takes in the steady beating of the heart thrumming under his hand. “I thought…” Rhett begins. He gets distracted by Link’s tongue poking out between his teeth and needs to be reminded to go on. 

“What did you think, Rhett?” Link asks. 

“Oh, I just thought your heart might still be mine,” Rhett replies. “But if it’s all yours, then I guess I can’t be too heartbroken over it…”

“Don’t be silly!” Link says. “Oh, Rhett, oh, baby, it’s always yours!” He sits up and straddles Rhett’s thighs, pressing him firmly to the bed. “Always, always!” Link says. 

“Always?” Rhett echoes. 

“Oh, stop!” Link replies. He kisses Rhett hard, his lips warm and his cheeks flushed. When Rhett kisses him back, he smiles against Rhett’s lips. “I won’t ever get tired of tasting you,” Link breathes, and Rhett could tell him much the same. “Every single piece of you.” He breaks the kiss to lap at Rhett’s throat and make him squirm. “To think I could have never known how good you taste…”

Rhett has nothing to say to that. He lets Link kiss him and he lets Link love him. He lets Link free the both of them from their clothes and he lets Link kiss his way down Rhett’s body. As always, there is something new. This time, Link’s skin turns the prettiest pink as he kisses Rhett’s chest. Rhett thinks it could take a lifetime to get used to that. He loves it, the brand new heat in Link’s cheeks, but he doesn’t tell him so now. He will later. He will. For the moment, for now, he closes his eyes against the beauty of Link’s pink face and lets Link work him with his tongue. The heat of his mouth is nothing new but the heat of his face is, of his chest nestled between Rhett’s thighs, of his hands encircling Rhett’s hips. As always, there is something new. And Rhett does all he can to get used to that. 

Link whispers Rhett’s name as he presses tender kisses to the insides of his thighs.

“What is it?” Rhett asks. 

“My heart,” Link breathes. “My heart.”

“What about it, baby?”

“It’s racing,” he says. “It’s going so fast.” He looks up at Rhett with a question in his cerulean eyes, a question Rhett can answer. 

“You’re okay,” he replies. He cups Link’s cheek in one hand and brushes his thumb along the reddened swell of his cheekbone. “It’s normal to feel like your heart could explode.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” Rhett replies. “I hope so, anyway, because I’ve been feeling this way since the moment I first saw you.” 

At that, Link glows. “That can’t be true,” he says. Rhett shivers as he chases the playful accusation with a kiss to each of his thighs. 

“It is,” Rhett replies. “I mean it. No one…nothing has ever made me feel the way you do.” 

“Well,” Link says, propping his chin on one of Rhett’s hips. “I can say the same for you, although it does not mean nearly as much coming from me.” 

“No, it does,” Rhett replies. “Honey, it does.”

 

In the following weeks given to Link in order to get used to his heart, he takes the time to explore. He explores his own body, his own limitations, and more than once, Rhett has to stop him from bumping into things on purpose to give himself new bruises at which to marvel. 

“Crazy boy,” Rhett teases, his lips in Link’s hair. 

“Real boy,” Link corrects, and he dances away so fast he accomplishes his goal despite Rhett’s best efforts. 

And it takes Rhett a long time, more time than it should, but he finds the courage to ask Link for help. He wants no distractions, nothing to take Link’s attention, and selfishly, he plans a day to whisk Link away. He doesn’t ask what Link wants to do on one of the first warm days of the spring. Instead, he packs a lunch for himself and gets ready for a long day outside. He’s almost finished getting ready before he remembers for the thousandth time that Link is a marvel, a miracle, and he can eat just like anyone else. Rhett always forgets and always curses himself when Link’s stomach starts rumbling. He’s not as good as he wants to be, not yet, at remembering that Link is very nearly as human as Rhett is. He’ll get it, he will. But for now, Rhett calls Link into the kitchen and asks him what he wants for his picnic lunch. 

“I’ll have what you’re having,” Link says, and he steps up behind Rhett at the kitchen sink and wraps his arms around Rhett’s middle. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going for a walk,” Rhett replies, keeping it vague to keep the destination a surprise. “How does a BLT sound?”

“Nope,” Link replies. “No T. You keep forgetting how much I hate tomatoes!” He kisses the back of Rhett’s neck and laughs as Rhett apologizes for his lousy memory. “It’s okay,” Link says. “You’ll get it someday.” 

“Yeah,” Rhett says. “Yeah, I will.” 

Rhett drives to the state park, Link gabbing all the way about the prettiness of the blooming trees. Rhett only has eyes for the prettiness of Link’s face and Link is even prettier as he blushes when Rhett tells him so. At the park, Rhett hauls his hiking backpack over one shoulder and holds out his hand for Link to take. 

“Ready to see my favorite place?” he asks, and Link nods fervently as he slips his hand into Rhett’s. 

“Yes,” he breathes. “I can’t wait.” 

It’s a long walk through the trees to get to the Cape Fear River, and Rhett flags long before Link. He’s not used to the long hours spent climbing hills, not anymore, and Link teases him as he loses his breath. “You can catch up, baby!” Link taunts from the top of a teetering boulder. 

“Shut up!” Rhett replies. When he makes it to Link’s side, his weight tips the rock too far to one side and they fall onto the damp path, stepping in soggy leaves left from the winter. Link scrapes up his calf falling off the boulder and laughs at the pinpricks of blood on his skin. “Crazy boy,” Rhett says for the hundredth time. Link goes to reply but Rhett scoops him up and kisses him breathless. 

“Love you,” Link says, and just like that, he’s off again. He teases and taunts all the way to the end of the line, the trail bottoming out at the riverbank. The water roars, made high and fast by the past week of rain. It’s slippery down by the shore, dead leaves and mud giving Rhett pause. He offers Link one hand and it takes Link a moment to take it. “This is your favorite spot?” Link asks quietly of the crystal clear water. When Rhett tears his eyes from the rolling rapids to look at Link, he finds him with wonder in his eyes. 

“Yes,” Rhett says. “I used to come here as a…when I was…with my…”

“With your wife?”

“Yes,” Rhett says again. “With Jessie.” 

Link stares out across the water, down at the winding path to the shore, and he gives his head a shake. “Thank you, then,” he says, “for sharing it with me.” 

The two of them take careful steps down the riverbank, slipping and sliding to the water. They find a dry spot on a fallen down tree and sit down side by side with Rhett’s backpack between them. For a while, they sit in silence, Link’s long legs swinging as he munches on his sandwich. Rhett finishes long before Link; Link loves to savor every single bite. Rhett finds himself watching Link eat, and Link preens at the attention. 

“You’re the crazy boy,” Link says as Rhett nudges his backpack out of the way to scoot closer. 

“That’s what I brought you here for, you know,” Rhett replies, sitting so close to Link that they touch from shoulder to knee. Link leans into him and waits for him to go on. When he does, he’s chuckling at himself before he even gets it out. “I think it’s time I learn how to be a real boy.”

Link laughs, shaking the tree on which they sit, and Rhett laughs with him. It’s silly, ludicrous, and he knows that. But Link knows exactly what he means. 

“Okay,” Link says. “If you want to learn how to be real…I can teach you.” 

“Where do I start?” Rhett asks. 

“You can start by learning what it’s easy for me to see. No one thinks they’re real, Rhett. No one. Everybody feels lost, and scared, and incomplete. Even the people you think are so sure of themselves, the people who act like nothing can touch them.”

“How do you know that?”

“I see it in the way they look at one another,” Link says. “I learned it from the way you look at me. It’s easy to see, once you know what you’re looking for.”

“So wise,” Rhett says, and Link tells him to hush. 

“Be nice,” Link says. “You’re the one who wants to learn something new today.” 

Quieted by the truth, Rhett leans heavily into his little robot and asks for Link to give him more. 

“Once you know that no one knows more about being real than you do, it’s easy,” Link says. “Everyone thinks they’re doing something wrong, and everyone feels like they could be better. I can see people falter, Rhett, and that’s how I know. You don’t see it because you think it’s only you that feels that way. But the people at ABT? They make things up as they go along. Even Stevie, even Drew. They learn right along with me. And every person you think knows exactly what is going on is just as scared as you.” 

“Are…are you?”

“Of course,” Link replies. He twines his hand up with Rhett’s and holds fast. “I was programmed to be as close to human as possible, remember. But there are things I was programmed to see that you could never. I was made to sense the things that people don’t say. The things that they want to say but don’t, and the things they show with their faces and their bodies. Now, I won’t be able to do that anymore once I get a brain of my own, but…I think I’ll still be able to figure it out. I hope so, anyway. I hope my ability to figure you out doesn’t go away. That’s one of the things I’m afraid of, you see. Losing my ability to know what you want to say before you say it.” He brings Rhett’s hand to his lips and kisses it, shushing him as he tries to speak. “You’re going to say that you believe in me,” Link says. “Am I right?” 

“Yes,” Rhett says. As Link speaks, he hardly dares to breathe. It’s amazing, the things Link knows without a shadow of a doubt, and Rhett is enthralled. He doesn’t want to break the spell, to distract him, to do anything that will make him give Rhett the floor. He doesn’t want it. He could sit here forever on this old dead tree, sitting with ghosts of his old dead past. As long as Link keeps talking, Rhett is willing to sit by the river until night falls and beyond. 

“Well, Rhett,” Link says, his fingers warm in Rhett’s. “I believe in you, too. And I know that no matter what happens to me, or happens to you, you’re going to keep being great. You’re gonna keep being the same wonderful person that you are, so full of love to give. And you’re gonna keep doubting yourself, but that’s okay. We’re all works in progress, Rhett. Not just me. Maybe my progress is more visible, but it’s not the only kind. Trust me, darlin’. I’ll be here to learn with you. I can promise you that.” 

Rhett has no idea what to say, what to do, so he settles for jostling Link’s shoulder and saying, “ _Darlin’_.” 

“Yes, darlin’,” Link replies, laughter on his lips. “Can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” Rhett says. He looks out at the river, his head faraway and too crowded all at once. He watches the water roll and thinks of the hours he had spent sitting right here with his wife, in a world far separated from the one he lives in now. It seems impossible, the space between the man he used to be and the man he is now, but here he is, different in more ways than he can count. He’s not brave like he used to be; he’s scared of the future. He’s not strong as he used to be, made weak by operating rooms and hospital beds. But he’s all right now, isn’t he? He’s grown, he’s aged, and with time, he’s learned more than he ever thought he would. That has to count for something, doesn’t it? 

Rhett’s wife used to call him _darlin’_ , Southern drawl and all, but the man who used to hear it in her voice is long gone. 

“Yeah, you can call me that.” 

 

Link holds Rhett’s hand tight enough to hurt as they wait to be separated one more time. The last surgery is the one that has loomed over their heads since the beginning, the promise of a brain created just for Link. Even he quakes as Drew bustles around the operating room, readying himself and Link for a long night of work. In the lenses of Link’s glasses Rhett can see Drew pacing. It scares him, the pace at which Drew works, but he’s out of time to change his mind. And Rhett trusts him, he does. Weeks and months of successes and new lessons have built trust between them, a mutual agreement to trust one another to take care of Link. That trust is what keeps Rhett firmly at the side of Link’s bed, their palms slotted tightly together. Every bit of Rhett wants to run; it’s hard to breathe in this room with the sound of Drew’s shoes squeaking on the floor. Once Stevie enters the room, it gets a little easier, but not by much. 

“Are you ready, Scarecrow?” she asks, chipper as she places a steadying hand on Link’s shoulder. 

“I’ve been ready a long time,” he replies, and he leaves it at that. Rhett does not tear his eyes from Link until it’s time to go, time to leave him, time to worry and fret all over again. “I’ll be okay, darlin’,” Link says as Rhett pulls away. 

“I know,” he replies. He leans in, one hand on the back of Link’s head, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I love you,” he mutters into warm skin. 

“I know,” Link says.

“And don’t forget it.”

“Never.” 

Rhett stares at Link and Link smiles at him, and Rhett is only dragged from the grip of Link’s crystalline eyes by Drew clearing his throat. 

“If you ever want to see him completed, Rhett, you’re going to have to let me work,” he says. He says it lightly, like a joke, but Rhett doesn’t like the sound of Link being a project to complete. The end goal isn’t completion; it’s humanity. Is there a part of Drew that still does not see that? 

Rhett plays along and smiles at Drew on his way out the door. Stevie meets him outside the operating room and lets him babble on the walk back to the lobby. “Are you sure I can’t spend the night? I know it’s not normal to be this worried, I know that, but I can’t help it, and I can’t sleep that well when he’s not with me, and I just want to get here as soon as possible once he’s done, and…”

In the end, Stevie interrupts. “Rhett, you need to give yourself some rest.” 

“I don’t need…”

“Rhett. God, Rhett. Do you hear yourself? Do you _see_ yourself? Half the time, I’m not sure you’re even aware you’re alive.” 

He pauses. “Stevie, what the hell does…?”

“I hope you know by now that you and Link mean more to us than research and scientific advancement. We love him here, Rhett, and you know what else? I can’t speak for anyone else, but I care deeply for you, too. And I think…” She stops, catching her lip between her teeth, and she looks away as she changes her mind. “It’s not my place,” she says. “But please, Rhett, go home. Give yourself a break. Love yourself, for your own sake, and for his. You deserve to care about yourself just as much as he cares about you. Okay?” 

“What do you think, Stevie?” Rhett asks. In reply, she ducks her head, her long blonde hair spilling over her face and hiding all but the slope of her nose. “Stevie, please. Tell me what you think.” 

She keeps her eyes firmly on the linoleum floor as she replies. “I think that you’re remarkable, Rhett,” she says. “And it’s a tragedy that he can love you so deeply and you still don’t even see it.” 

“That’s a nice sentiment, Stevie,” Rhett says, and finally she perks her head back up. “But loving someone doesn’t make everything that’s hurting them go away. It’s…people are complicated. Aren’t they?”

“Terribly,” Stevie replies. 

“I think I’m finally using what I’m learning from Link,” he says. “Everything he knows that I don’t. I’m taking it and trying my best, and I think he’s finally teaching me how to be human.” 

“Funny,” Stevie says, a wry smile on her face. “I think he’s doing the same for me.” 

Rhett leaves for the night with a head and a heart lighter than he has felt in weeks. When he climbs into bed alone, sleep comes to him easily. No nightmares chase him and nothing terrible drags him out of sleep with tears in his eyes. He’s okay when he wakes up and he’s okay as he waits all day. It’s nothing he hasn’t done countless times before, sitting and waiting and hoping, all alone. He’s okay; he can do this. He can wait. He’s okay as it starts to rain outside his window and he’s okay as he watches it fall, wishing for the clouds to fade and show him the sky the color of Link’s eyes. But he’s okay as time passes and he hears nothing. It’s a long day of quiet, of loneliness, of scraping by. But he’s okay.

At least, he’s going to be.

He waits all day in the bed he can’t wait to share again with Link. And he’s still okay when finally, his phone begins to ring. 

He’s okay until Stevie meets him in the lobby of the lab with her eyes wide and red. 

“What happened?” he asks without giving her a chance to speak. 

“Rhett, it went well, and he’s fine, but…”

“But?” His heart sinks, his stomach knots up, and Stevie is left to chase after him as he strides away towards the room where Link waits for him. 

“Rhett!” Stevie calls after him. “Wait, let me talk to you!” 

Rhett keeps moving. Stevie chases him, closing her hand around his wrist, but he ignores her when she tries to pull him back. Once she realizes there is no stopping him, she begins to babble. 

“Rhett, oh Rhett, please, he’s fine!” she says. “There’s just something you should know! He has all his memories, Rhett, I promise, but we didn’t know…” 

He doesn’t wait to hear what she has to say. Rhett bursts through the metal door and cuts her off as the door swings shut behind him. A moment later, she follows, still calling his name, her voice echoing down the hall. 

“He knows who you are, Rhett, but he doesn’t…he might not…Rhett, please, wait!” Stevie lunges for him and catches him by the back of his T-shirt, choking him as she yanks him back. When he stumbles, she takes his momentum to drag him close to her and slam him against the wall. With all the air leaving his body, Rhett gives in. He stops moving. 

“What is it?” he asks. Stevie looks at him with her face tight and her hands shaking as she pins him to the wall by his biceps, her fingernails digging painfully into his skin. “Stevie, tell me.” 

“He’s confused,” she said. “He’s been rambling, repeating himself, scared out of his mind. I think what’s happening is that he can’t figure out what to feel first. It’s real all of a sudden, Rhett, and the imitation of emotions that we gave him were nowhere near as strong as the real thing. He’s having trouble with…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice ragged. “When you called me. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” 

“I wanted to tell you when you could see for yourself,” she says. “I thought about not calling you at all, Rhett, all right? But I thought it would be better for him…and for you…to speak to each other sooner rather than later. Because he…he loved you more than anyone, and I thought it might help break through the barrier he seems to have built up in his mind. Do you…do you understand that?” 

Rhett is stuck on one thing. “ _Loved_ ,” he echoes. “He _loved_ me. What does that mean?” 

Stevie’s sympathetic eyes tell him everything. 

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Rhett asks. “Tell me the truth. He has his memories, okay, fine. But he’s not…he’s not him anymore. Is that what you’re scared to tell me?” 

Stevie says nothing. All she does is look at him with eyes that tell him she’s been crying, she’s sorry, and she has no idea how to fix the damage done. 

“Tell me the truth right now,” Rhett says. “He’s not the same. He’s not mine anymore. Just _tell_ me, Stevie, is that what you’re trying to say?” Rhett is going to fall apart; he’s been holding himself together for too long to withstand the look on Stevie’s face. He waits, begging her not to lie. 

And finally, Stevie nods. 

She nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am sincerely sorry for the long wait. Thank you, thank you for the continued love and patience and support throughout this entire hiatus; it means more than I can ever say. Another apology for the cliffhanger: this chapter was always meant to go this way, so I'm sorry the long, long wait ended like this! I promise not to be away for so long with the next update. 
> 
> A huge, huge thank you to [Emily](http://mythicalemily.tumblr.com/) as always for editing for me and for helping me through my writer's block. <3 And thank you to you, everyone who has been too patient and too kind. All I can promise is a much, much shorter wait this time.


	11. Show Me

The first thing Link says when he lays eyes on Rhett is a broken, “I’m sorry.” He has tears in his eyes, on his cheeks, dripping from the tip of his reddened nose. He’s distraught, shaking, and Rhett has no idea what to say to him. “Rhett, I’m sorry.” 

He has to say something, something to fix this, but Rhett opens his mouth to find himself unable to say anything at all. 

“No, Link, don’t be sorry,” Stevie says from somewhere behind Rhett. “It’s not your fault.” She brushes past Rhett to stride to Link’s side, her hands shaking as one lands softly in Link’s hair. With gentle fingertips, she tucks loose locks of hair behind his ear, and Link looks up at her as she uses her thumb to wipe his tears away. His eyes slide away from her face to search for Rhett, and when Link finds him, nothing Stevie can do stems the flow of tears. 

“Oh, Rhett, I’m so sorry,” Link says. Rhett can’t do this; looking into Link’s red and streaming eyes is like looking down the barrel of a gun. He has to get out of here. He has to run. But the moment he takes a step backwards, Drew is at his elbow. 

“Rhett,” Drew says, fingers curled around Rhett’s bicep. “Rhett, please. He needs you.”

“Needs me?” Rhett echoes. As Stevie fusses over Link, her hands all over him, Drew keeps Rhett in place. 

“He’s human, Rhett,” Drew breathes. “And he’s scared. If we had known that losing surety of his emotions would cause him so much distress…”

“Oh, would you have stopped?” Rhett snaps over the sounds of Link grasping for control. “Don’t bullshit me, Drew. You would have kept going. You have your results now, don’t you? Who cares about the _distress_ you cause along the way, right?” When Rhett looks to his right to face Drew, he finds the other man frowning deeply. 

“You know how much we care,” Drew counters. “You _know_ that.” 

Rhett is done. He pulls away from Drew’s hands and he makes his way to Stevie, scaring the hell out of her by dropping a hand on her shoulder. Barring the ability to run, Rhett is going to do what he should not have hesitated to do. He is going to keep doing right by Link, no matter what the cost. 

“Let me talk to him,” Rhett says. “Please.” Stevie looks up at him, worry creasing her brow, and he asks her again. She deliberates, her body quaking under Rhett’s hand, and Link hiccups and fights to get control of himself at her side. “Hey…” Rhett breathes. The softness he forces into his voice finally shakes the apprehension from Stevie’s face as she eyes him, pale and trembling. “Hey, just let me talk to him. Okay? We’re fine.” He ought to remind her that she’s just as fine, but he doesn’t. Right now, all he wants is Link to himself. Right now, quiet and solitude are all he can ask for. 

“Okay,” Stevie says. “We’ll just…we’ll just be outside the door, then. Okay?” She looks at Drew and he offers her nothing more than an echo of the anxiety wracking her body. Whatever they have done, they are horrified, and their presence scares to hell out of Rhett. What could they have done to Link, to _his_ Link, that keeps their eyes locked on him? What are they so afraid of? 

Link speaks and answers the unasked question for him. “Leave us alone,” he says to the people he has adored since the moment he met them. “I don’t want you here anymore.” The tears drying on his cheeks paint a picture of _needing_ more than _wanting_ , but Rhett lets Link decide what he wants for himself. His back to the door, his back to Stevie and to Drew, Rhett waits for them to decide if what Link wants is what they are going to give him. 

“Come get us when you need us,” Stevie says. “We still need to…”

“Out!” Link barks. Without looking back, Rhett listens as the door to Link’s room opens and gets yanked shut. The moment it does, Link buries his face in his hands. He shudders, a dry sob escapes him, and he gathers himself together. “Rhett, please hold me,” he says through his fingers. 

“Link, I…”

“I don’t care. Hold me, please, hold me.” It’s the sad slump of Link’s shoulder that gets Rhett moving. He sits down on the side of Link’s bed and envelops Link in his arms. For a moment, Rhett thinks Link might erupt. But instead of doing what Rhett would, he heaves a sigh and buries his face into Rhett’s shoulder and doesn’t say a thing. He clutches Rhett so tight it leaves him breathless, but Rhett only returns the favor. He holds Link as tightly as he dares, afraid of hurting him, afraid of breaking something. Because whatever happened to him, whatever broke inside his body, he isn’t Rhett’s little robot anymore. For better or for worse, he is human. And he is more fragile now in Rhett’s arms than he has ever been before. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Rhett murmurs as Link’s long hair tickles his face. He strokes Link’s back and sways with him, back and forth, desperate for anything that will make Link feel all right. There are too many questions screaming for an answer in Rhett’s head for him to ask any of them now. All he can do is cradle Link in his arms and wait for Link to tell him. 

But when he does, every word tumbling from his lips only serves to break Rhett’s heart. 

“Rhett, I’m sorry,” Link says, like he needs Rhett to know that above everything else. Urgent and punchy, he tells Rhett he’s sorry again. Unable to see his face and unwilling to draw back to see, Rhett squeezes Link hard until he starts to gasp for air. Once Rhett loosens his hold, Link loosens his lips. “I love you,” he says. “Still, I love you. I know I do. I just…I don’t…I can’t…” 

“Link, it’s okay…”

“Don’t say that!” Link says, voice sharp in Rhett’s ear. “You don’t know! You have no idea what I was going to say!” 

Without a choice, Rhett slips out of Link’s embrace. He pulls back, just far enough to see the tears clinging to the point of Link’s chin. Link fixes him with a watery half smile. “What were you going to say, then?” Rhett asks. He already knows, and Link must be sure of that, but Link wants to admit it just the same. That’s fine. That’s all right. Rhett can grant him that. 

After a deep breath, Link looks hard at Rhett and goes quiet. He searches Rhett’s face with his eyes and then his hands, running careful fingertips down Rhett’s cheekbones to his jaw. He cups Rhett’s face in both hands and Rhett refrains from asking Link what it is he’s looking for. Rhett knows. And Link tells him. “I _know_ I love you,” Link breathes. “You’re beautiful and you’re…you’re mine. But I just can’t…I can’t feel it, Rhett. I don’t feel a thing.” 

He throws himself back into Rhett’s arms and cries into his chest and doesn’t come up for air until Rhett is crying too. Even then, he only lifts his head to tell Rhett things that don’t make much sense. “I’m scared,” Link breathes. “But Rhett, oh Rhett, I have no idea what that means. And I’m…I’m happy, but I just…oh, Rhett, am I ever going to be the same?” 

Rhett has no answer for that. Link has to know, but he asks anyway. And Rhett can’t do anything but tell him a lie. “Yeah, Link, of course,” he says. “You’ll be okay. You’re fine.” He smooths down Link’s hair, he plants a kiss on the side of his head, and he says, “Honey, you’re fine.” 

 

There are tests to run. There are always tests to run, things to do, nuances to study. But Stevie is scared out of her mind and she pulls Rhett aside to tell him, “Take him home. Take the time you need. Please, God, Rhett, tell me you’ll be good to each other if I let you go.” 

Rhett promises her, but she doesn’t believe him and he doesn’t blame her. Still, she’s as good to them as she can be and she lets Rhett take Link home. Link says nothing all the way back, sitting with his hands folded in his lap. He doesn’t reach for Rhett. He doesn’t even look at Rhett. All the way home, Rhett prays: _please let him be okay. Please let him be happy. Please, God, don’t take him away from me now._ He prays for Link’s happiness and does not dare ask for anything more. 

Link shuts himself in his room when they get home and leaves Rhett standing alone in the kitchen. He lets Link be. Rhett is no stranger to being brokenhearted and as Link battles with it for the very first time, Rhett does all he can to dissuade himself from going to him. Drew said _he needs you_ , but does he really? The way Rhett sees it, at the moment, Link needs him like a hole in the goddamn head. No, for once, Rhett can let him be. Rhett can let him sort it out himself. (He will sort himself out, won’t he?) Rhett doesn’t have to puzzle over the panic of Link never getting better for long. His phone rings, and Stevie is on the other line. 

“What is it?” he asks, stepping outside to sit down hard on the front steps where Link can’t hear him. It’s a warm day, a beautiful one, and Rhett’s stomach clenches painfully at the thought of what he and Link could be doing with it right now. But instead, Link is lost and Rhett is a goner and he has no idea what to do. Luckily for him, Stevie has some ideas. 

“I think you have to teach him,” she says. “Teach him how to feel the real thing. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No.” Rhett picks at a bit of brand new green grass poking out from a crack in his driveway and waits for Stevie to enlighten him. 

“Teach him how to fall in love,” Stevie says, and it’s all Rhett can do to keep from snapping at her. Like he knows the first thing about that; like he has any clue. He was so young the last time he thought he knew how, and it ended in years of solitude. What the hell was Rhett supposed to do with that? 

“I don’t know how,” he admits through a clogged up throat. The crack in his voice is as wide as the crack in the pavement at Rhett’s fingertips, but there’s nothing there to fill this crack. 

Stevie tries. “You fell in love with him,” she says softly. “And I know you didn’t mean to, but you did. What made you fall in love, Rhett? I want…” She sighs and Rhett can imagine her hugging herself, gnawing at her lip as she tries not to cry and scare him away. “I want him to come back to you,” she says. “He’s just scared, that’s all. He’ll come back to you, I promise. I know he will. He just needs help. And we probably…” Again, she sighs, long and deep. “We probably can’t help him with that here. If you want…if you need it, we’ll take him. We’ll figure something out. We’ll study him and his moods and his feelings and maybe we can get in there and rewire…”

“There’s no wires left, Stevie,” Rhett reminds her. “No more rewiring.” 

Stevie is quiet for a while. When she speaks again, her voice is heavy. “You’re right,” she says. “I’m being stupid. Of course there’s no wires left…” She heaves a sigh and a loud thunk follows, like she’s either banged her head on the wall or on her desk. Knowing her, that is exactly what she did. “Ow,” she says without explanation. And then, “I just don’t know what to do, Rhett. I didn’t know it would cause him this much pain. I didn’t know…well, I didn’t know a lot of things.” ( _Even the people you think are so sure of themselves, the people who act like nothing can touch them, Link said, even they have no idea what they’re doing_.) 

“Neither do I,” Rhett agrees.

“But you know him.”

“Yes.”

“So please, Rhett, please try. Try to bring him back to you.” 

“For you?”

“No,” Stevie sighs. “For him.” 

“Stevie, what if…?”

“Don’t ask me that.” Stevie is blunt as always. She cuts Rhett off before he can ask her what the hell they are going to do if Link’s despair is something they can’t fix. “What do you want me to do, Rhett?” she asks. “Name it and I’ll do it. We’ll do everything we can to help, Rhett, anything at all…”

“Stevie, I really don’t mean to be a jerk, but I think this might be beyond you now.” 

“What do you mean?” she asks. 

“Your specialty isn’t human emotions,” he replies. 

“And yours is?”

Rhett laughs hollowly. “No,” he says. “But what I’m saying is…I just want some time. Give us some time, okay? I’ll…I’m gonna teach him what I can. I don’t know what’s gonna happen…shit, I don’t know anything.” Stevie echoes his empty little laugh and Rhett goes on. “But I’ll make sure he’s happy again. If nothing else. He…he deserves to be happy more than any of us.” 

“Not so much you,” Stevie replies. 

Rhett has no idea what to say to that, so he settles for saying, “Thanks.” After a moment of uneasy quiet, Rhett squeezes his eyes shut and says, “Even if I’m not what he wants anymore, I’m going to make sure he gets what he’s looking for.” 

Stevie is silent for a long time. Minutes pass before she replies. “Rhett, after everything, you can’t tell me you’re going to give up on him so easily.” 

“It’s not giving up,” he says. “It’s setting him free.” 

“He’s never been held captive by you.”

“No? Then what do you call it?”

Again, she goes quiet. She sounds far away when she says, “Rhett McLaughlin, you never fail to astound me.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rhett asks. With his elbows propped on his knees and the sun slipping away and leaving Rhett in the cold, he does all he can to keep himself together. It isn’t easy, not with Link closed off from him, not with Stevie sniffling in his ear. Not with the warmth of the day fading along with the sun. Rhett sniffles too, and Stevie loses a little more control. 

“Oh, Rhett,” she says. “I didn’t know you were going to mean so much to me.” She pauses to take a shaky breath and Rhett echoes the motion. “I didn’t know you were so _good_ , when we started, and I didn’t know I was going to love him as much as you do. I thought…from the beginning, I thought we were doing something good together. But I had no idea it would end in…in this.” The finality of her statement hurts Rhett’s heart and he has no trouble in telling her so. 

“Stop it, Stevie,” he says. “It’s not the end. Don’t tell me this is the end.”

“No, I…” Again, she sighs, the picture of a person hanging onto the edge of a horrifying _something_. Rhett feels close to the same edge. Whatever that something is, at least they share the fear of falling off together. “You’re right,” she says. “God, Rhett. There’s so much we didn’t know. And we kept going anyway. Why did we not stop to think for a second? Not for once?” 

Rhett does not remind her how many times he tried to stop the speeding train before it fell entirely off the tracks. Instead, he buries his face in one hand and tells her, “You did what you thought was best. We all did. Even…even him.” 

“You don’t…you don’t blame him for wanting this,” Stevie asks, “do you?” 

Rhett pauses. He looks up, up into the purple and blue sky as night falls all around him. He tries to focus, to think; he orders himself to be brave at the same time as he looks up and begs for an answer from the sky. “No,” he says after a while. “No, I don’t.” 

“That’s good,” Stevie says. “That’s good.”

 

Rhett goes to bed alone. He doesn’t try to coax Link out; he doesn’t try to talk to Link at all. What he does is take a long look a Link’s locked bedroom door and choose, in the end, to give him more time. What else can he do? 

He faces the ceiling and closes his eyes but sleep eludes him for a long time. By the time he manages to doze off, he wakes up moments later to the sound of Link’s bedroom door clicking open. He lies perfectly still for a beat, listening for a sign of life. And when Link begins to tiptoe down the hall towards Rhett’s room, Rhett rolls over to face the wall. It’s for the best if he feigns sleep and lets Link go back to his own room. It’s for the best if Link doesn’t have to know that Rhett has been lying awake all this time. When his bedroom door cracks open, spilling light across the room from the hallway, Rhett almost breaks. 

“Rhett,” Link whispers. His voice is creaky and timid, and the floor creaks under timid footsteps as Link closes the door and makes his way to Rhett’s bed. “Rhett, please. Are you awake?” He gives Rhett a chance to reply and Rhett does nothing but stare blindly at the wall. (There has to be a better choice than this, but Rhett is not so sure.) Link waits, calm and quiet, and Rhett is not surprised when the bed dips under Link’s weight. “Rhett, I need to hold you now,” Link says. “This is your last chance to tell me to go away before I get under the covers with you and refuse to let you go.”

Rhett ponders the option but loses heart at the thought of causing any more despair to darken Link’s face. Rhett stays still. And Link moves. He pulls back the covers, slips underneath, and tucks his knees up behind Rhett’s. It takes him a moment longer to curl his body around Rhett’s and wrap an arm around his middle. But he settles in, his lips at the nape of Rhett’s neck, and he presses a kiss to the spot. His mouth is warm and the brush of his lips careful. 

“I’ll learn, Rhett,” Link whispers. He knows Rhett is awake; he must. Still, Rhett lets him speak as if he’s not listening. “I promise I will. Even though I told you no promises, this is one I’m going to keep. Even if it takes forever, Rhett. I’m gonna learn how to feel again.” He pauses, sliding one hand up Rhett’s chest, and he splays his fingers over Rhett’s racing heart. If he didn’t know Rhett has been listening, he knows now. “Rhett,” Link breathes. And he gasps as Rhett rolls to face him. Blinking under Rhett’s gaze, it takes Link a moment to recover. But when he does, he reaches out to cradle Rhett’s face in one hand and says, “I love you, Rhett. I just have to figure out what that means. But in the meantime, please. Can I still be yours?” 

He asks as if he thinks Rhett might deny him. The fear in his face indicates a man lost, a man who all at once has become his own. And Rhett would never deny him anything. “Yes, Link,” Rhett says. “As long as you want to be. You’re always going to be mine.” He thinks about the implication of the statement, the idea that Link belongs to him, and he amends it. “Not mine,” he says. “Just the one I love.”

At that, Link cracks a smile. “I’m gonna make you proud of me, Rhett. I can do this.”

“I know you can,” Rhett says. He presses a kiss to Link’s palm and wraps an arm around him. “And I already am.”

 

As Link learns, his desires grow. He was programmed to be devoted to Rhett, and it’s hard for both of them to no longer have a preset status quo. It scares the hell out of Rhett (what if he chooses to leave?) as much as it scares Link. Link is better at handling it. Sure, he stares at Rhett from across the loveseat, as if willing himself to feel something. (That hurts worse than when Link keeps his distance, but Rhett keeps that to himself.) Sure, he goes to bed alone and Rhett listens to him trying to keep his sniffling quiet. Sure, nothing is quite like it was before. But Rhett believes in them (he believes in Link, at the very least), and he tells himself over and over _we’re going to be all right_. 

He doesn’t know about Link, but Rhett has no intention of giving up anytime soon. 

He takes Link out on a long, late night date. He makes Link laugh over drinks and the first time Link learns what it feels like to be tipsy, his laughter tilts up and doesn’t stop. Link giggles the rest of the time they while away sitting together at a bar, and Rhett accepts every cocked eyebrow and every stare he receives for the noise. He would take on anything to keep Link laughing. 

Arm in arm, Rhett walks Link to the car and deposits him in the passenger seat. Link sits with his hand over his mouth and thin, high pitched giggles escape him as he waits for Rhett to buckle up. 

“I’m so dizzy,” Link laughs as Rhett takes his seat at Link’s side. “I can’t even _see_ straight!”

“That’s okay,” Rhett says. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you to bed if I have to, and in the morning, you’ll feel okay again.”

For a while, Link is quiet. But when he speaks again, his voice is a little more somber. “I don’t wanna go to sleep in my bed,” Link says. 

“You can sleep on the couch if you want,” Rhett replies. He glances at Link, at the man with two splotches of pink high on his cheekbones. He resists the urge to touch and feel the heat surging under Link’s skin, but only just. “Or you don’t have to sleep at all, if that’s what you want. I can sit up with you and we can watch a movie, or…”

“Wanna sleep with you,” Link says. He cuts Rhett off, his head bowed against the car window and his hands folded neatly in his lap. 

“You’re drunk,” Rhett replies. 

“Yes, but…” Link huffs a sigh and hugs his arms close to his chest. “But I wanna sleep with you. Don’t you want me to sleep with you, Rhett?” 

“Of course,” Rhett replies. More than anything. He misses Link’s body curled up at his side; the days spent sleeping apart have been long and mostly sleepless. But still, Link is not himself. He sways where he sits, not used to the dizzying effects of alcohol, and it’s on Rhett to make the right choice for him. As much as he wants to agree, he refuses. “But when you’re with me, Link,” he says. “Not tonight.”

“I’m with you _always_ ,” Link snaps in reply, uncharacteristically angry and petulant. And it’s so close to something Link said a long time ago, something that hurt Rhett’s heart then and hurts Rhett’s heart now: _I will have you for always_. Rhett knows it to be true even less so than he did when Link said it for the first time. Still, he chooses to believe it. 

“I know that,” Rhett says. “But you know what I mean.” 

“No,” Link replies. He punches it out and Rhett hates this, the anger Link directs at him. For once, he knows the truth: he doesn’t deserve it. But Link doesn’t deserve the fear that keeps him up at night, nor the confusion, nor the heartbreak. The two of them fall silent in the car, the weight of all the things they’ve passed into one another’s hands keeping them apart. Link keeps his arms crossed over his chest and his head pressed against the window as Rhett drives. And it hurts, keeping Link at bay, but it hurts more to think of giving him something he doesn’t really want. (He wants Rhett, doesn’t he?) 

Rhett has never been less sure. 

He asks Link how he’s feeling and he is met with a curt, “Angry.” 

“I’m glad,” Rhett replies.

Link snorts and shakes his head. “Glad? Why?”

“I like learning about you,” Rhett says. “As much as you liked learning about me in the beginning. Do you remember?” As he speaks, he tries his best to coax Link out of the irritable husk in his voice. Link remembers. Rhett knows he does. Link stiffens in his seat, swaying just a touch as he listens, and for the moment, Rhett’s voice holds him captive. And he takes advantage of every silent second. “You remember,” Rhett says, “how happy you were to learn everything there was to know about me. And how happy it made you to learn new things. It was so good, Link, watching you learn. I loved every minute of it. Even if…even when I didn’t act like it.” 

Link sighs, and Rhett keeps talking to fill the hole left by Link’s sullen hush. 

“If you’re angry, that means you’re still learning,” Rhett says. “It means you can still figure this out. Doesn’t that make you feel good, Link, to know that you still have so much more to see? If you’re mad at me, that’s fine. I’ll take it. But just know that that’s part of being human, honey, not knowing what you’re going to feel next. You’re not broken, or wired wrong. You’re just a person.”

“Don’t talk to me about wires,” Link says. 

“Oh, Link,” Rhett replies. 

“Why are you being so…?” Link begins. He cuts himself off. As Rhett pulls into his driveway, Link grabs for the side of his seat and pulls the lever to throw it back. He kicks up his feet and shoves his sneakers between the dashboard and the windshield, one arm tossed over his eyes. Rhett watches him breathe as the car idles. 

“So what?” Rhett asks. 

“Good,” Link punches out. “Good. I’m scaring myself, and I’m scaring you, and you’re being good to me. I don’t understand it. I thought I was…just when I was…” Link chokes as the corner of his lip trembles. “Just when I thought I was gonna understand everything, I lost it all. You can’t even imagine how that feels.” 

Rhett pushes his own seat back to get closer to Link. He unbuckles and twists in his seat, his face inches from the arm Link has over his eyes. “Link,” Rhett breathes. “I can. It wasn’t the same thing, Link, but I lost everything too. Don’t you remember?” 

Link goes quiet. And then, “Rhett…” 

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.”

“I’m doing my best here. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry for being horrible to you.”

“It’s okay, Link. That’s what people do.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea. We just do. But we get better afterwards, if _better’s_ what we want.”

“I want better,” Link replies. His lip quivers again and Rhett reaches out to trace the curve of it with his thumb. Link raises the arm over his face to look at Rhett through teary eyes. “I want to be better. But I’m scared. I want to learn. But all I feel is…” Link shakes his head. “Bad. All the time. It’s like…like I’m supposed to feel everything horrible all at once so I can be happy after. Is…is that what I’m supposed to be feeling?” 

“You’re not _supposed_ to feel anything,” Rhett says. His back aches from the way he lies, and Link has tears in his eyes, but they’re all right. They are. “You can feel whatever you want to feel. Tell me what you’re feeling now. All of it.” 

Link bites his lip and rolls to his side, tucks his hands under his head, and looks hard at Rhett. 

“What?” Rhett asks. 

“You wanted me because you were scared,” Link says. “Because you were lonely, and sad, and tired. Right?”

“Yes,” Rhett says. 

“But if it’s okay to feel those things, why did you need me so badly?” Tears stain the lenses of Link’s glasses as he blinks, and Rhett ignores the urge to wipe them away. 

“Because I’m not as strong as you,” Rhett says. “I never was.”

Link thinks about it, his lip held captive between his teeth. In the end, he crinkles up his nose and sighs, confusion marring his brow. “That’s not true,” he says. “You needed help, and you asked for it. That takes being strong. Doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that,” Rhett says. 

Link opens his mouth like he has more to say, but he says nothing at all. Instead, he shoves his seat up, leans over Rhett, and twists the key in the ignition to cut the engine. In the silence that follows, the only sound is that of Link sniffling as he cries. When he swipes at his nose and opens the car door, Rhett follows him. Link crosses the pavement in the fading light of the car’s headlights and throws himself into Rhett’s arms. 

“I know I love you,” Link says. He wavers, tipsy and unsure of himself, and Rhett catches him up in his arms. With Link’s hands buried in his hair and Link’s body pressed flush to his, it’s easy to believe him. 

“I know that, baby,” Rhett says. Link sniffles in his ear, splashes tears into the hollow of Rhett’s throat, and lets Rhett scoop him up off the ground. His hands under Link’s thighs and Link’s hair in his face, Rhett barely makes it to his front door before he’s laughing. It’s ridiculous, he knows that, but for all the things he knows, there are a hundred things he doesn’t. So he allows himself the moment of ease, the moment of Link reaching behind himself to open the door, the moment of spilling Link onto the living room sofa and waiting for permission to go on. 

“Am I allowed to sleep with you?” Link asks, his limbs askew on the sofa and his eyes puffy from crying. 

“I have a better idea,” Rhett replies. “How about we stay awake and you can tell me everything you feel as you feel it. And when you’re done, I can tell you the same. Whaddya say?” He pauses as Link’s eyes roam his body, restless and wide. “Whatever you want, Link, I’ll stay awake for you.” 

Link ponders the ceiling for a long time before replying. “Okay, Rhett,” he says. “You show me yours, and I will show you mine. That sounds good to me.” 

Despite the tear tracks on Link’s cheeks and the tremor in his hands, it sounds just as good to Rhett. And as they curl up together on the sofa, talking with their voices hanging low over two mugs of tea, it sounds even better. Link paints emotions better than Rhett ever could, and Rhett listens as Link makes sadness sound less like a feeling and more like a journey. (Maybe it is.) He listens as Link tells him how it felt to feel for the very first time, and Rhett reaches out for Link’s hand. Link takes it, squeezes, and traces patterns across Rhett’s knuckles with one finger as he tells his story. It’s a good story, a story Rhett has been woven into since the beginning, but still, he savors each and every word. 

When Link presses one hand over his chest, the hand clutching Rhett’s, Rhett flattens his hand to feel Link’s heart thrum. “I don’t understand,” Link says, “why I feel everything in here. Is that…is that how everyone feels? Sadness, and…and happiness, and love? Those are all felt in your heart, and not your head?” 

“Yes,” Rhett breathes. “That’s where I feel it too.” 

“So…” Link says. He looks at Rhett, his lips parted and his eyes red. “That is why I feel so…heavy… _here_ …when I look at you?” He covers Rhett’s hand in his own with his free hand, face twisted up in confusion, fingers shimmying in Rhett’s. And he looks so small, terrified, brow furrowed. 

“Is that what you feel?” Rhett asks. “Heavy?” If so, he can take the burden. He can ease some of the weight sloping Link’s shoulders downwards, can’t he? He will do everything in his power to try, anyway, because Link is downcast and Link is baffled, eyes going everywhere and landing on nothing. 

“Yes,” Link says, staccato. 

“Anything else?” 

“…Warm,” Link says. His cerulean eyes touch down on Rhett and leave again to focus on their entangled hands. 

“And?” 

“And…scared. Anxious. Worried. Awed. Humbled.” Link’s throat works as he tries to come up with adequate words, and Rhett does not envy him the inability to articulate how he feels. Rhett has had enough of such feelings to fill the both of them to the brim. And Link’s rose petal pink lips part and he says something that sticks to Rhett’s racing heart. “Loved.”

“Loved?”

“So, so loved,” Link whispers. “Rhett, I can feel it right here. Why didn’t you tell me that’s where you feel it in you? If I had known I was in your heart and not just in your head…” When Link sighs, Rhett sighs with him. Together, two pairs of tired, weighed down shoulders sag, and two pairs of eyes meet over crossed hands. 

“What?” Rhett asks. 

“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” Link finishes. It hangs in the air between them for a moment, the sorrow in Link’s voice. He bows his head and his neck creaks, the metal bones inside his body the last remaining relic of his inhumanity. As Link quakes, Rhett tightens his hold on shaking hands. 

“Link, nothing that hurt me was your fault,” Rhett says. Link sniffles and nods but doesn’t look back up. “And you know what, Link?”

“What?”

“Link, I would go through a lot worse than what I’ve gone through just to have what I have now. To have…hey, look at me.” Link obeys, looking up at Rhett through wet eyelashes. “To have you,” Rhett says. “I would do it all again in a second.” 

Despite himself, Link’s mouth quirks up. “Even when I broke everything in my room?”

“I would buy a hundred of the same lamp and replace it as many times as I had to.”

“Even dealing with Stevie, the way she was in the beginning?” As Link chuckles, Rhett joins in. 

“Yes! Even that.”

“Even…” Link thinks, devilish, the man that Rhett fell in love with coming back to life before his eyes. And it’s remarkable, the capacity Link has for everything that rages inside of him. Despite fear, he smiles, and despite sadness, he chokes on laughter. What is it that Rhett ever taught him? He knows everything by heart. “Oh, even when your brother fought you? Even when you quit your job? Even when I got my lungs and everyone thought I might die? Even that?” 

“Yes, Link,” Rhett says. “I’d lose a hundred jobs and punch a hundred faces if it meant I got to have you happy and whole.” And it’s a lofty dream, something that may still dangle just out of reach, but it’s what Rhett wants. It’s what he has always let himself yearn for. The way Link holds Rhett’s hands until they ache tells him that somewhere, deep inside himself, Link still wants the same thing. He wants to be Rhett’s. 

He just has to relearn how. 

“Rhett,” Link says, and that’s all he wants to say. 

The two of them fall asleep on the couch, tangled up together, two empty mugs between their knees. They wake up sticky with spilled drops of honey-sweetened tea and laugh as they rinse the sugar from their hands. It’s a small step, the admission of a mountain of insecurities, but if small steps is what it takes, Rhett is going to take them all. 

 

Link loves to bicker. He loves to pick fights, to get under Rhett’s skin, on a mission to find exactly how to get to him the quickest. He loves to annoy, to make Rhett frown, because every time he figures out how, it’s something added to the list of things he knows. He loves to delight, to amaze, and every time he does something that makes Rhett smile, he glows. 

It gets easier to find the Link he has always been as days pass with nothing but joy crossing Link’s face. On the days that it’s hard, the days Link spends unable to think of anything new to try, all Rhett has to do is gather him up in his arms and hold him until he conjures something up and breaks away with a smile. (Rhett does not do much to deserve being the recipient of that smile, but he accepts it just the same.) 

Link craves independence. He wants to explore, to do things on his own, and the first time Rhett suggests he teach Link how to drive, he’s in Rhett’s arms thanking him over and over before Rhett has time to regret the offer. Sure, he can give Link independence. He can give Link the power to go where he wants to go. He can only hope that once given the choice, Link will always come back to him. 

It’s hard to watch Link drive away the first time he heads out on his own. Rhett leans in his doorway and watches the car disappear down the road as Link leaves for the sake of leaving. He wants to learn his way around the small town, and Rhett can’t fault him for that. Still, it scares the life out of Rhett to sit all alone and wait for the sound of his car pulling back into the driveway. He does his best to pass the time and not worry, but he ends up peeking through the living room curtains too many times to count. By the time Link returns, Rhett has talked himself out of going out looking for him over a dozen times. He waltzes through the front door with one hand behind his back, a pleased smile dancing on his face. 

“Whatcha got there?” Rhett asks. He tries to get around Link’s back to see what he holds, but Link twists out of the way, laughing as he goes. 

“Close your eyes!” Link chirps in reply. 

“Link, what is it?”

“Close your eyes!” 

Rhett does as he’s told. In the middle of the living room, he shuts his eyes, at the mercy of Link and his wonderful, imperfect whims. He waits as Link sets the car keys down in the kitchen, and he waits as Link bustles around in the cabinets under the sink. And he waits as Link turns on the faucet, whistling to himself. “When did you learn how to whistle?” Rhett asks over the bubbling sound of running water. 

“I don’t know, I just did!” Link replies. “Don’t peek!”

“I’m not!” Rhett throws his hands up to the sound of Link’s laughter. Blind, Rhett holds his arms out and finds his way to the kitchen counter, getting as close to Link as he dares while Link works. “What’re you whistling?” 

The thin sound of Link’s whistling cuts off as he breaks down into excited giggles. “I don’t know!” he says. “It was just a song playing on the radio!”

“I like it,” Rhett says, and to that, Link surprises him.

“I like _you_ ,” he says. He turns off the faucet, sets something down on the counter, and says, “Okay, you can look now.” 

Rhett opens his eyes to find Link standing proudly behind a vase full to the brim with wildflowers. As Rhett’s hand flies to his mouth, Link lets out a gleeful crow. “Do you like them?” he asks of the array, a dazzling display of oranges and yellows. “I just stopped along the side of the road when I saw ones I liked! And I know that flowers are something you give to someone you love, and I want you to know how hard I’m trying, and I know that it scares you, everything that I’m doing, but just know… _eep_!” Link squeaks as Rhett walks around the counter to pull him into his arms. It only takes a beat for Link to hug him back. He squeezes hard, both hands balling up into the back of Rhett’s shirt, and he says into Rhett’s chest, “So you like them?” 

“Love ‘em,” Rhett replies, short and sweet. He can’t help himself; he presses a kiss into Link’s unkempt hair that sends him laughing all over again. 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link sighs. “I told you I’ll learn. I promised, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Rhett replies. He props his chin up on the top of Link’s head when he tries to pull away; he needs a moment to hide the tears threatening to brim over in his eyes. “Thank you, Link.”

“Anything for you,” Link replies. He burrows deep into Rhett’s embrace, warm and thrumming and alive, and the sight of the flowers on the counter is almost too much for Rhett. 

“You’re too good to me,” Rhett murmurs into Link’s hair, and immediately, vehemently, Link shakes his head. 

“Shut up,” he says. 

Rhett chokes on sweet nothings and barks a laugh instead. “Crazy boy,” he replies. 

“I can feel my heart swell when I look at you, Rhett,” Link whispers into the front of his shirt. “That has to mean something, doesn’t it? It’s so warm, Rhett. And it’s spreading. I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. I just…feel so much. I feel so deeply for you. I didn’t know that love was something bigger than devotion. I didn’t know it would make me feel so warm all over. There are so many things you didn’t tell me, Rhett! And you expect me to learn it all!” He teases, light, and the moment Rhett tenses in his arms, he eases up. “Sorry,” he says. “I know you’re not asking for anything from me.” 

(All he wants is Link’s love, but he is not going to keep asking for more than what Link is willing to give.) 

Link looks up into Rhett’s face and sees something there that softens his eyes. “Come with me,” he says, and he leads the way. He deposits Rhett on the couch and tells him to stay, and Rhett sits still as Link goes back to puttering around the kitchen. When he comes back, he carries two bowls of ice cream, and he passes one into Rhett’s hands. “Whaddya say we watch some movies and don’t move for the rest of the day?” he asks. Rhett looks at him as he plunks down on the sofa, and he scoots over to give Link room to stretch his long legs out. When Link rests his feet in Rhett’s lap, Rhett pinches playfully at his ankle to make him squirm. “Sound good?” Link asks. 

“Yeah,” Rhett says into his bowl of ice cream. “Sounds good to me.” 

The two of them sit in happy, comfortable quiet as they watch _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_. Link gets a huge kick out of the songs and his laughter is contagious; Rhett laughs until he cries when Violet Beauregard gets turned into a blueberry. Link digs his toes into Rhett’s ribs to make him laugh harder, and Rhett misses half an hour of the movie lunging after Link and smothering his face in kisses. Glasses askew and cheeks pink, Link returns each kiss with one of his own. And even if Rhett fell in love the moment Link fell over his doorway, he’s falling all over again. This is Link as he comes into his own; this is Link as he grows up. And Rhett loves him. 

He can only hope that as Link kisses him, hands warm on his cheeks, that he feels the same. Link loses his breath and breaks the frantic stream of kisses to gasp Rhett’s name. “Oh, Rhett,” he sighs. It’s a happy little sigh, but Rhett pulls back to see a tinge of sadness darkening Link’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” Rhett asks. 

Link kisses him before replying. “I can’t believe that someone could…” He cuts himself off, both hands buried in Rhett’s hair. His fingers twitch in the soft spots behind Rhett’s ears as Link gathers his thoughts. 

“Could what?” Rhett asks. He lets himself collapse fully on top of Link, trapping him on the sofa, and Link gasps for air as he runs his hands down Rhett’s back. 

“I can’t imagine surviving the loss of something like this,” Link says. “I don’t know how you did it, losing someone you loved so much. And you survived it. And you have survived it, all these years…Rhett, I think I would die if I lost you.” 

“Don’t say that,” Rhett replies. He presses a wet kiss to the side of Link’s throat and Link whines in phony disgust at the sensation. The movie plays on without either of them watching it anymore, but Link doesn’t seem to mind. 

“It’s true,” Link says. “Rhett…” He pauses. “Rhett, you know, I can die now. I’m gonna…I’m gonna age, and get old, and die. Just like everyone else. That…that’s a lot to take in. I can’t malfunction and get fixed anymore. I…”

“Link, don’t talk about dying.” He doesn’t mean to beg, but it comes out sounding an awful lot like a plea. 

But Link has become an expert at testing his limits and pushing buttons, and he keeps going as he roves slow fingers down Rhett’s spine. “What if I outlive you? What would I do? Would you leave the house to me? Would I miss you? Would I fall in love with someone else? Would I…?”

Rhett can’t help the bubble of panic that rises up in his chest and he can’t help it when it comes out as a rumbling laugh. “Crazy boy,” he says. 

“You’re the crazy boy,” Link replies. “You’re the one who loves me. You have to be crazy to go through so much trouble just for love.” His hands slip up under Rhett’s shirt and Rhett sighs as Link begins to rub idly along the ridges of his spine. 

“Maybe,” Rhett says. “But you’re doing the same for me.” 

Link contemplates the accusation for a long moment before pressing a kiss to Rhett’s temple and saying, “It’s no trouble at all.” And it’s a lie that Rhett is willing to believe for the time being. If Link wants to lie, Rhett is willing to let him. Whether he thinks he’s protecting Rhett or whether he simply wants to feign ease, it doesn’t matter to Rhett. Whatever Link wants is his. And if that’s half-truths and gentle jabs, then that’s just fine by Rhett. 

When the movie ends and Rhett finally heaves himself up off Link to turn the TV off, Link begins to shiver. It isn’t long before he asks for Rhett to hold him, and it isn’t long after that that Rhett scoops him off the couch and carries him to bed. “Don’t leave me here alone,” Link says, as if Rhett has any intention of doing so. Rhett crawls into Link’s bed after him and tosses the covers over their heads, burying them in a shroud of warm blankets. Link looks at him in the semi-darkness, eyes glistening and lips parted. “Does it hurt to fall in love, Rhett?” he whispers. 

“It does,” Rhett replies. At the fear in Link’s face, he adds, “In a good way.”

“I’m learning that,” Link says. “That pain can be good. I never would have imagined.” 

“Do you feel it?” Rhett asks. 

“Yeah,” Link replies. “I think I do.” 

And the openness of Link’s face is all Rhett could have ever hoped for. He kisses Link’s nose and then his lips and sinks with him into the ache of falling in love. 

 

Link is planning something. It isn’t hard to figure out. He sneaks around, peeking around corners to make sure Rhett isn’t checking up on him before doing whatever it is he’s doing. Rhett pretends not to notice when Link murmurs on the phone, one hand cupped around it to muffle the sound of his voice. Truth be told, Rhett has no idea what Link is up to. But he can’t wait to figure it out. 

The answer comes on a Friday night, a Friday night a few weeks after initiating radio silence with the scientists in Raleigh. Rhett has been enjoying the peace he knows won’t last, spending his time learning Link and all his new bits and pieces. Sooner or later, he is going to have to answer to Stevie, to Drew, and to the world beyond him and Link. He’s going to have to call Cole, his parents, and explain where the hell he has been. But for now, the night just beginning and Link buzzing with excitement, Link sneaks up behind Rhett and wraps a tie over his eyes. 

“I’m taking you out,” Link says, his breath hot on the back of Rhett’s neck. “Let me surprise you. Whaddya say?” He ties a knot at the back of Rhett’s head and tangles his hair in it, but it doesn’t bother Rhett. 

“Okay, Link,” Rhett replies. “Take me anywhere.” 

Link drags him by the hand out into the night and into the car. Blindly, Rhett reaches for Link’s thigh and digs his fingers in. “Ow!” Link laughs. “Cut that out!” He makes no move to shake Rhett off as he starts the car, and Rhett lets his hand rest where it is. Link’s skin is warm through his jeans and it feels too good to feel the heat coming off him to do anything else. 

“Where are we going?” Rhett asks. In reply, Link turns the radio up to drown him out. Over the music, Link shouts. 

“To a place where anyone can fall in love!” he says. 

“Anyone?” Rhett teases. 

“Anyone,” Link agrees. He covers the hand Rhett has on his thigh with his own and runs a finger along the back of Rhett’s hand, idle and slow. The car takes dizzying turns and Rhett quickly loses track of all of them. He’s at Link’s mercy, waiting for what Link has in store for him, and he thrums with excitement as Link drives. He’s a fast driver, a little bit reckless and a little bit distractible, but Rhett’s not afraid. He trusts Link just as much as Link trusts him. Isn’t that part of what love is, anyway? Mutual trust despite the curves in the road? 

Whatever love is, Rhett’s heart hums happily with it as Link hums along with the radio. Link’s sweet voice fills in the things Rhett can’t see, and he sits waiting patiently as he can to reach their destination. Once the car stops and Link cuts the engine, Link’s hands land lightly on Rhett’s cheeks. 

“Before I take this off,” he says, fingers on the makeshift blindfold, “I just want to tell you what I’m after.”

“Okay,” Rhett says. Link tweaks his cheek between his thumb and forefinger and chases the pinch with a kiss. Rhett squirms under Link’s lips as his honeyed laughter fills the car. 

“I want to do something romantic for you,” Link says. “Because I think I finally know how.” And it’s not the first time, Rhett wants to tell him. It’s not the first time Link’s soft ideas of romance have caught Rhett off guard. But he knows what Link means. He nods. 

“Okay,” Rhett says again. His voice shakes, Link’s hands land in his hair, and he blinks in the meager light offered by the moon as the blindfold falls away. 

The car sits at the top of a hill illuminated by starlight. Rhett takes in a deep breath as he takes in the open field before them, nothing but dewy grass laid out as far as he can see. 

“I just wanted to take you somewhere we can be alone,” Link says. “No one to hear us, no one to talk to, nothing to answer to…just you and me.” His voice shakes as he adds, “And the moon.” He smiles as Rhett tears his eyes from the hilltop field to look at him. “What do you think? Wanna have a picnic with me?” 

It takes Rhett a little too long to reply and the corners of Link’s mouth turn down. But as he opens his mouth, Rhett reaches out to cup his cheek. “Oh, Link,” he says. 

“What?” Link replies. He nuzzles into Rhett’s touch, his little smile back on his face, and the moon playing through his hair is the prettiest thing Rhett has seen in a long, long time. 

“My Link,” Rhett says. 

Link looks for a beat like he might melt under Rhett’s hand, his lazy smile reading that he’s feeling just as lost as Rhett, but he shakes his head and ducks away. “Is that a yes?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Rhett replies. “It’s a yes.” 

Rhett watches from the hood of the car as Link sets up the blanket he stowed in the trunk of the car. After Link pins down the blanket with rocks, he goes back to the trunk and comes up with a basket. “Sit,” Link says. Rhett heaves himself off the car to settle onto the blanket made damp by the grass beneath. He waits obediently still while Link pulls a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a bowl overflowing with fruit from his basket. “It’s not much,” Link says. “And I borrowed some money from your wallet. Don’t look at me like that! If I’m able to get a job…to work…I would love to. But for now, I borrowed! Rhett, don’t look at me like that!” 

“Like what?” Rhett replies.

“Like you’re going to pounce on me at any second!” 

“Okay,” Rhett says. Link peels the foil off the top of his champagne bottle and digs his thumb up under the cork, aiming out into the field. As the bottle pops open, Rhett adds, “I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” With shaky hands, Link fills two flutes with champagne and passes one to Rhett. He takes it, taking care to slide his fingers along Link’s knuckles as he pulls back. Link shivers at the contact, and each word he wants to say leaves the tip of Rhett’s tongue before he can get them out. “What?” Link asks again. “You’re looking at me like you’ve never been so scared in your whole life. Is this too much? Are you upset with me?” He holds the flute to his lips but doesn’t take a sip yet, the champagne sloshing in the glass. He arches up an eyebrow and Rhett wants to press his lips to it. Instead, he takes a sip of his champagne and tries his best to speak. 

“Link…” he tries. 

Link looks at him amusedly, glass clinking on his teeth, that one eyebrow arched up impishly. “Yes?”

“You…I…I don’t know how you…” Rhett heaves a sigh and gives up, buying time by tipping his head back and drinking. When he sets his half empty glass down, Link refills it. 

“What are you trying to say, Rhett?” Link asks. His voice is so small, Rhett almost misses the cracks in it. 

“All I want to know is how…now that you don’t have to anymore…why you…why this…”

“You want to know why I’m still here, loving you.”

“Yes.” Rhett doesn’t know yet if he’s relieved or terrified as Link gingerly takes the reigns from his hands. 

“You still don’t think you deserve my love.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Oh, Rhett.” Link finishes his drink, pours himself another, and takes a sip of that. He takes his time digging into the bowl of fruit, coming out with a strawberry held between his teeth. As he pops it into his mouth and chews, he pauses before speaking with his mouth full. “Rhett, let me tell you what I wish I had been able to tell you from the first second I saw how desperately you needed love.”

Rhett gulps. “Okay.”

“But first, I want to hold you. Come here.” Link holds his arms out, and Rhett follows the curves of his body. He lies back on the blanket and Link crosses his legs to give Rhett a spot to rest his head. Nestled in Link’s lap, Link’s hands landing feather light on his chest, Rhett feels a little less like crying and a little more hopeful. “Are you comfortable?” Link asks. Rhett tips his chin back to look up into Link’s face and finds him glowing with a halo of moonlight. 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. He crosses his arms over his chest to place his hands over Link’s, and with their fingers messily entwined, Link paints a picture with a stuttering tongue. 

“You’ve always thought that your sadness and your heartache make you unlovable,” Link says. “You think that because you’ve been hurt, that you’re broken, and no one will be able to love you. And Rhett, I can’t tell you how proud I am of you for reaching out and finding me. That was so, so brave. And I don’t know what would have become of you if you hadn’t, and I don’t want to think about that. I don’t like to think about the person you used to be, all alone and scared.” Link rubs idly at Rhett’s chest and lets out a long breath before going on. “But Rhett, it’s my turn to be brave now. It’s my turn to dive in and learn to let myself love you. You’re not perfect, Rhett, and you make it hard to love you sometimes. But if you can be brave, so can I. And no matter what happens to me, I still want you. And I want you to want me back. And this is me being brave, and offering you love, if you trust me to remember to always love you. I don’t know if I even trust myself. But I trust your love for me, and the way you love me, and I believe that we’re going to be okay. If okay is what you want to be.” Link clears his throat. A teardrop lands on the back of Rhett’s hand and he looks up into Link’s face to see tears dripping from the point of his chin. 

“Oh, Link,” Rhett says. 

“You love me, don’t you?” Link asks. His chin quivers as Rhett wipes tears from it with his thumb. “Even in all the ways I’ve changed? Even when I’m mean to you, and when I can’t explain how I feel, and I get upset?”

“Of course,” Rhett replies. 

“Then why are you so sure that I can’t love you just the same?”

Rhett isn’t quite sure what to say to that. 

“If I promise to love you unconditionally, through everything, you need to promise me something back.”

“What is it?” Rhett asks. 

“Try to see yourself the way I see you.”

“How’s that?”

“As someone who can be a jerk, and can be impatient and scared and lousy at explaining himself. You can be grumpy, and skittish, and hard to be around. But you’re the best person I know, Rhett, and I want you to realize you don’t have to be happy or strong or selfless for me to love you. You’ve allowed me to grow, and now it’s your turn. Can you tell me you’ll try?”

Rhett teases to keep from breaking at the sight of tears on Link’s cheeks. “You don’t know that many people, Link. You telling me I’m the best person you know isn’t really saying much.” 

“Oh, Rhett,” Link sighs. He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips, and Rhett reaches up to cup the back of Link’s neck in his hand. Link relaxes under Rhett’s touch. 

Rhett thinks back to the lab, to Stevie’s eyes, to Stevie nodding when Rhett said, _“He’s not the same. He’s not mine anymore.”_ But she was wrong, wasn’t she? Link never stopped being Rhett’s, not for a second. And it took Rhett until this moment to realize. Link makes a soft noise of pain when Rhett digs his fingers into Link’s spine, and he lets up with a softer apology. 

“It’s okay,” Link breathes. 

“I love you,” Rhett replies. 

Lying under the stars, the moon lighting up Link’s face, Rhett has never been so sure of anything. At the top of a hill, on top of the world, Rhett may never be unsure again. When Link says it back, Rhett’s heart soars, and the world seems to tilt beneath him. He won’t be climbing uphill anymore, his past and his worries dragging him back as he fights his way up inch by inch. Link waits for him now, at the crest, and Rhett meets him there. Together, they climbed, and together, they rest easy at the apex. 

Rhett couldn’t ask for anything more.


End file.
